


Alma Matters

by letsdothepanic



Series: Alma Matters Verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Remus Lupin, Bring Back Black, Emotional Sex, First of all this is an ode to Remus Lupin, Found Family, Gen, Hand Jobs, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Kissing, Lunar Eclipse, M/M, Post-War, Remus Lupin Lives, Semi-Public Sex, Single Parent Remus Lupin, Sirius Comes Back, Soulmates, lycanthropy cure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsdothepanic/pseuds/letsdothepanic
Summary: At the age of thirty-eight, Remus Lupin feels like he's been widowedtwice.Four months after the battle of Hogwarts has Remus lonely and tired. His metamorph baby is a tad too small for his age, and Andromeda won't help Remus figure out why. Harry has been crashing on his sofa for the last few months, and Remus blindly hopes he's helping just by being there for him. With the two boys to look after and his transformations growing steadily more painful, Remus chooses to go through a ritual that should release the wolf's soul from his body, curing his lycanthropy for good. What he doesn't expect, though, is to have Sirius materialise in his sitting room soon after; hurt and ready to discuss everything that's happened since his death in the Department of Mysteries, in 1996.This is a story about Remus Lupin and second chances, for him and his loved ones.





	1. September, 1998

“You’re a proud man, Remus.”

The words did not sound like a compliment, coming from Kingsley the way they were; not when the two men were sitting in Kinglsey’s well-adorned office at the Ministry, with old paintings of former leaders staring at them curiously.

This felt nothing like talking to Shacklebolt in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place had during Order meetings, when Remus’ ears could not help but stray to listen for Sirius’ displeased grunts across the room, Kingsley’s voice tuned out.

And it also didn’t feel like how shouting words of warning had, just four months ago at the battle of Hogwarts. There were no explosions and no flying hexes; no smoke rising from burning tapestries and no loved ones collapsing around them. The artificial-feeling, Privacy Charm-induced silence of the Minister’s office was supposed to feel safer but, still, Remus felt like he was there to fight for something. _Justice_ , one might put it.

Except the man in charge wasn’t buying into his argument at all.

“But she was your wife,” Kingsley continued. “You were legally wed and she was a Ministry employee.”

Remus could see the look on Tonks’ from face when she’d told him they should get married in ridiculous detail. The way her sweet, hazel eyes were fogged up with liquor, her vibrant-coloured hair dirty with sweat from their running, Remus pictured, earning himself a sharp tug to the heart. They’d both been drunk out of their minds after a particularly bad raid, and her jeans still had someone’s blood on them. He had laughed, though. He had laughed at the idea of signing their names on a paper and of having people call her Mrs. Remus Lupin simply because that wasn't who she was. That wasn’t who _they_ were.

 _This is for you, Remus_ , she had told him, her gaze turning dark.

 _I won’t have you be my widow,_ he had retorted.

 _The bloody irony_ , he thought, back at the Ministry, eyes back on the man before him.

At thirty-eight, Remus felt like he’d been widowed twice.

“This is simple procedure, Remus,” Kingsley amended.

The urge to complain about _procedure_ and how unfair it could be died in Remus’ throat. He wasn’t about to bring up what the Ministry had been calling _procedure_ for the last year or so; that would be unfair. Kingsley had not been in charge back then; the Death Eaters had. And Remus had not come by today to insult his friend’s leadership, or anything of the sort. All he wanted was peace.

“She wasn’t killed on duty as a Ministry employee, Kingsley. We both know that. When I got that letter from the Aurors office, I…”

Choking on his words was also not something Remus had been planning on. He had thought this would be easier – he would come by and politely return the gold he’d been given as Tonks’ life insurance beneficiary, as well as decline the pension the Ministry had begun depositing into his Gringott’s vault. It had seemed simple and logical in his head – besides, why wouldn’t they be thrilled to have to spend less money in a time of crisis? This could be going to someone who needed it more, Remus had argued in his own head during a recent sleepless night. But again, Kingsley was not having it. He did seem _touched_ by Remus’ words, but not in the way Remus had wanted him to be.

“She was on maternity leave,” Remus said, simply, clearing his throat and cursing himself for the pitiful look that bloomed over the Minister’s face.

“Yes, Remus, but as I told you, all Ministry employees get insurance policies, even the ones who are not Aurors. And pensions, too. That’s just the way it is. No special treatment here.”

Remus floundered for a moment, at a loss for what to say.

“Just take it for Teddy, Remus.”

Remus’ eyes narrowed for a second, but there was nothing he could say to refute _that_. Babies needed things. Nappies, bottles, Infant Nourishing Potions. Even muggle baby formula was too expensive, as Remus had soon found out. Besides, having Andromeda support Teddy financially while still grieving both her husband and daughter didn’t feel right in the slightest; she didn't make any effort to hide how displeased she'd been to see Remus out and about while she'd still been in mourning, after all.

 _For Teddy, then_ , he thought, his expression sour. Perhaps Remus _was_ a proud man, indeed.

Luckily enough, though, a knock on the door interrupted them.

“Sir? Harry Potter is here.” The voice of the Ministry’s secretary was squeaky and full of awe as she announced Harry’s presence. Remus was pretty sure she wouldn’t have come knocking on Kingsley’s door personally if Harry hadn’t been the one out there.

“Come on in, son.”

Harry entered the room, looking shy. He had Teddy strapped to him, in a muggle baby carrier Remus had begun wearing when the two of them were out and he needed his hands free.

Remus smiled at the two of them and Harry seemed to relax.

“It’s good to see you here. Remus and I were just having a chat, but we’re done now,” Kingsley told Harry, closing the previous topic.

“Teds got a bit restless for a mo there, but everyone was happy to see him at the Aurors Department.”

Recognising the sound of his name, Teddy squealed happily in Harry’s arms, grabbing onto his jacket lapels and pulling on them.

“I bet they miss you, too,” Kingsley told a distracted Harry with a benign smile. Remus could see the exact moment when the words sunk in, though; a shadow crossing Harry’s eyes behind the round frames he wore.

“Uhm, yeah. Robards kept making jokes about me running off to be a babysitter instead of an Auror.”

“Dora used to say he was kind of a sexist prick, yeah.”

Both men turned to Remus at that. He could feel his ears flush hot, having blurted it out without thinking. He scratched at his beard, then; a fidgety habit Remus had picked up once his facial hair had grown out enough to sink the tips of his fingers into. Shaving had just not been a priority, lately.

“He’s a very competent Head Auror, but I’ll make sure to investigate,” Kingsley replied in what sounded like a conciliatory but final tone.

Taking the cue, Remus rose from his chair and offered the Minister his hand.

“We also have Mind Healers available to family members of deceased Ministry employees, but I won’t offer _that_ to you,” Kingsley shook his hand. Remus didn’t know what to say, so he busied himself with relieving Harry of Teddy’s nappy bag. “I know, I know,” Kingsley continued. “Just remember you have people on your side, Remus. The war is over. We all want to see our own do well.”

Still quiet, Remus nodded and stepped back so Harry could shake Kingsley’s hand as well.

Once they were out in the corridor, Harry handed Teddy over and helped Remus strap the carrier around himself. With a kiss to a giggly Teddy’s fine and now black hair – _to match Harry’s_? he wondered as a rush of affection for both of them coursed through him – they began to make their way out of the building.

“Would you mind if we stopped by Mysteries? I told ‘Mione I’d say hi,” Harry asked, waving a stuffed dragon at Teddy as they walked. The baby giggled.

“Sure, no problem. I think this lad still has a good half an hour on him.”

They walked towards the lifts in silence, but it was comfortable. Remus and Teddy had spent some time at Grimmauld with Harry a couple of months ago, and the boy was a constant presence in the Lupins’ spare bedroom once Remus had managed to go back to living at his flat without Tonks. They were all used to quiet nights, interrupted only by the baby’s cries.

Harry didn’t seem to be able to sleep well since the war – he’d once confessed he couldn’t remember a time when he’d slept more than four hours at once – and Remus felt guilty for letting him get woken by Teddy’s night fits, but Harry didn’t seem bothered. He would spend time in Teddy’s room even when Remus didn’t ask him to and, having been unable to pay for a nanny without the pension he had so far refused to receive, Remus knew the help was priceless.

With time, Harry had begun opening up, too. He’d told Remus about his time at the Forest of Dean and the hunt for Horcruxes.  They’d discussed Remus’ _unfortunate_ behaviour on the night he’d talked to him, Ron and Hermione, the year before. The guilt he’d felt about that time was still there – Remus felt like a coward for having even considered walking away from his son, despite having been forgiven by Harry, at least.

“So, I was thinking of cleaning up Grimmauld for real, you know? Kreacher likes me now and… I think I could make something out of the place.”

Remus nodded.

“I think Sirius would’ve liked it,” Harry continued.

“Level Nine, Department of Mysteries,” the voice in the lift announced before Remus could say anything. He didn’t really think Sirius would want anything to do with his old family house, but yet he had left it to Harry to do as he pleased with it.

Still, hearing Sirius’ name as they stepped closer and closer to the place where he’d died left a bitter taste in Remus’ mouth. Harry seemed to notice he’d said something wrong, and turned his attention to Teddy instead.

“Harry! Professor Lupin!”

Hermione’s excited tone saved them from the uncomfortable moment. She looked well in her Unspeakable robes, like she belonged in them. She was clutching multiple rolls of parchment and looked tired, but happy.

“Haven’t been a professor in a while, Hermione. Call me Remus,” he smiled. She put down the parchment rolls and waved her wand at them, making them fly off in different directions, in neatly stacked piles. Remus was impressed.

“D’you remember Marina Santos? She graduated when we were in third year? We’re… we found something… let me go fetch her!” The girl said, pushing a strand of thick curly hair off her forehead before leaning in to give Harry a quick half-hug and running off.

“She told me they’ve been working on something you might be interested in, but she wouldn’t get into detail,” Harry told Remus with something of a shrug as they both watched Hermione walk into a closed office, shutting the door behind her. “She’s really into the whole research thing… I thought she’d go back to school, but she flat-out refused it when Mrs. Weasley asked if she wanted her to get her books back in August when the lists came…”

Harry clearly hadn’t wanted to go back to school, either, and Remus sympathised. He hadn’t been thrilled at the perspective of getting back to Hogwarts himself when Minerva asked him to assume the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; not when the images of the Battle were still so vivid in his dreams.

“Professor Lupin, hello!”

A bright voice brought Remus back to Earth.

“And Harry, I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Marina; I graduated with your girlfriend’s brother, Percy!”

The young woman offered Harry her hand in greeting, which he took, despite seeming a tad uncomfortable.

“I just came back from Argentina. I was very lucky to get to study under Cardozo. I don’t think I’ve ever had the chance to thank you properly for the recommendation, professor!” She turned to Remus, still beaming. He did not remember having given her a recommendation letter, but he was sure he’d taught her at Hogwarts. It felt good to see one of his students succeed.

“It’s almost embarrassing, how little the British Unspeakables knew about what the wizarding historians and anthropologists in South America have been working on for _years_ now!”

Santos chatted away about her apprenticeship in curse-breaking, and they all followed her back into the office her and Hermione had come from. Teddy made a sleepy sound around the large button of Remus’ blazer he’d been gnawing on, which Remus took as a warning. Teddy was either about to fall asleep or cry until he was taken home, and those were two extremes that were hard to predict.

“Have you told prof– Remus about it yet?” Hermione asked excitedly, having popped out from behind Santos with a new pile of parchment in hand. Remus frowned at their enthusiasm.

“I’m– she hasn’t, no. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to take Teddy home soon, though. I’m sorry, Hermione, Marina, but you sound busy…”

“But– !”

  
“We may have found a cure, professor!”

Remus’ frown grew deeper. He’d had his eyes down on Teddy’s chubby hand that was now trying to rip the button off his jacket. It was hard to imagine why would they be trying to find a cure for his morphing magic, he thought. That was not supposed to be any trouble at all. Teddy _did_ have a penchant for screaming, and the healers at Saint Mungo’s had a hard time coming up with explanations for his seemingly unprompted fits, but Remus would never… he’d never change his boy.

“For lycanthropy, sir! We found a cure!”

Remus’ heart hiccoughed. A shiver ran down his body, and it was hard to tell if the sensation was pleasant or not. Harry’s hand on his shoulder grounded him.

“H-harry, could you take Teddy home?”

The baby had just started fussing in his arms, but Remus needed to stay. _A cure_ , he repeated in his head. Hermione was still smiling wide.

“I, uh. Of course.” Harry agreed, “Send me a Patronus if you need anything, yeah?”

Remus handed Teddy over to Harry and stepped inside Santos’ office with Hermione in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, everyone! i've never posted a chaptered fic like this before, and i would love to hear from you! 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr under [letsdothepanic](https://letsdothepanic.tumblr.com/)!  
> a great big thank you to [mags](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoserLikeSkeeter/pseuds/LoserLikeSkeeter) for the beta on this chapter and the next few! ♥


	2. October, 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe the amazing response this has gotten! you guys are awesome! thank you so much for reading and i hope you'll enjoy today's chapter!

Remus awoke to the smell of tea and burnt sugar wafting towards him from the kitchen. He had his eyes closed still but the small, solid weight on his chest let him know what was going on pretty quickly. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa after a whole afternoon of  Teddy screaming and crying. It was impressive, how much air those little lungs could hold, and how much noise could come from such a small being.

 _Small,_ the Infant Healer had said. Teddy was a tad too small for his age, but that wasn’t supposed to be a matter of much concern. At six months of age, he often refused to drink the Infant Nourishing Potion he had been prescribed at Saint Mungo’s, or the baby formula the muggle paediatrician had told Remus to buy. Teddy would spit out the bottles and push them away, spilling their contents on his father’s clothes, his own bedsheets and the good sofa they had brought from Harry’s house. Remus was glad for magic at those times.

A thousand reasons for Teddy’s small stature would cross Remus’ mind, and all of them were his fault to some level or other. It was probably the werewolf genes, he’d tell himself, clutching Teddy against his chest as the boy wailed, his cries ricocheting from the magically soundproofed windows. He didn’t have much clue of how the morphing worked, either – could that be a problem? Wasn’t mass supposed to be immutable while morphing? Did that even make sense? he’d ask himself, flipping through metaphorical book pages. Not many wizards had ever come across a metamorph baby, and Andromeda seemed to have decided not to help him at all; still intent on blaming Remus for everything that had happened.

He couldn’t fault her for it, not really. It wasn’t like he didn’t blame himself for not sending Dora home when she’d shown up at Hogwarts. _Could it be possible that Teddy misses his mum already?_ Remus would wonder guiltily, fighting the lump in his throat as he tried not to let his brain wander to the last time he’d seen her.

He could picture it perfectly, her determined expression as they argued once again – about going off to battle. They’d been arguing since the day they’d brought Teddy home. Or rather, since the day she’d told him she was pregnant. And before that, too, Remus would have to admit. The fierce expression she’d had on her face as they fought was marked in his mind’s eye, but so was the sweet one she would assume when they’d pick Teddy up, quiet or not.

They’d had a special bond, Dora and Teddy; Remus could tell. Something he might never be able to reproduce, he thought bitterly, splaying a hand on Teddy’s back as he lay as still as he could, listening for the sound of his son’s heartbeat. He could feel it very distinctively if he concentrated– the rise and fall of Teddy’s little chest, the heat that came from his tiny body. It was terrifying, how _human_ such a fragile being could be.

“I’m sorry, Pig, we’re out of treats.”

Harry’s voice came from the kitchen, followed by a hoot from the pygmy owl. A moment later the window was opened, and the second hoot seemed to come from outside the flat.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Harry called, from closer now.

Remus had barely realised he’d opened his eyes, tired as he was. The last full moon had taken its toll on him, leaving Remus feeling like not all of his joints had popped back into their right places. It wasn’t unusual for his body to feel _off_ , and as much as he was used to it, it seemed like there was no way of just not minding the sensation entirely.

“It’s okay. I must’ve drifted off earlier. I would’ve brought him to bed, but I guess we both went down together,” He smiled, watching as Harry took a seat on the coffee table before them.

“You’re tired.”

“Yes.”

“You look worse than you did in the train in year three,” Harry joked, offering Remus a mug of tea that had followed him from the kitchen. Remus sat up carefully, then, enough to take the mug Harry had handed him without disturbing Teddy. He took a sip from it with a low hum, pleased by the tea’s perfect temperature.

“I tried heating up some pudding too, but my food warming charms are off. Burnt the whole sodding thing.”

Remus let out a small laugh, taking another sip from his mug. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. His stomach appreciated the warmth.

“You don’t have to babysit _me_ , you know.”

Harry seemed surprised.

“I’m not… that’s not what I’m doing,” he replied, sounding unsure. “I’m just… not doing anything else, you know? And I like being around. ‘S nice to have a godson.”

“I’m glad I picked you,” Remus offered Harry a tired smile.

Harry looked at him and blinked.

“I’m… it’s just…” Harry stammered, his gaze falling to a hole on the knee of his jeans. “It’s nice that I get to be here for Teds,” he said, finally, and Remus considered stopping him. He didn’t want to push Harry to talk, even though he felt it was good for the boy to be opening up.

“Feels like… something a normal person my age would do,” Harry breathed out.

“It wasn’t fair to you, that… it all fell on your shoulders, Harry.” Remus told him with a guilty sigh. “We never… we didn’t know half of it. And… we were all lost, in a way, after Dumbledore died. We were fighting in the dark, and then you kids disappeared… so we just did what we could. Which was obviously not enough, but…”

Harry was still looking down. Remus wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder, but that would mean having to put his mug down, or move the hand he still had on Teddy’s back. He chose to wait until Harry looked back up, then, smiling as warmly as he could manage.

“I know I was… _misguided_. In my timing, at least. But I really wanted to help you,” Remus told him, wandlessly floating his mug over to the coffee table.

“I know we’ve talked about that night at Grimmauld before,” he continued. “And you know I’m not proud of any of it. It was a horrible time, and you know it better than anyone.”

When their eyes met, Remus could see Harry was surprised to be hearing those words. Remus watched as colour rose on his dark cheeks.

 _Can brown people even blush? –_ twelve-year-old-Peter’s squeaky voice sounded in Remus’ head. It was a sunny day at Hogwarts, the Marauders all gathered under their favourite tree by the lake. James hadn’t seemed to take offence, but Remus had known better.

It was amazing, how alike they looked; especially now that Harry was older.

With a shake of his head to push the memories away,  Remus focused back on Harry. He did his best to ignore the feeling that those days at school might as well have been lived by someone else.

“But… I’m here now,” he continued. “And ‘s your turn to get tea and blankets, if you’d like. Also there’s chocolate in the cupboard. I’ve been saving it for you.” Remus affectionately bumped his fist against Harry’s knee, to which he smiled and nodded, seemingly distracted by musings of his own.

They shared a quiet moment while Harry finished his own tea. Teddy stirred and let out something between a sob and a cough, but did not wake.

“Are you taking the cure?” Harry asked, finally.

Remus had been expecting the question, but it still caught him by surprise.

“I… think so,” he said, truthfully.

The things Santos had shown him were almost unbelievable. Remus was still in awe of the way the Guarani tribe wizards had described the Wolf, calling it a gift from the ancient magical gods. It was hard to imagine that having his body torn apart and then put back together every month could be a gift, just as it was hard to imagine that lycanthropy might have something positive _,_ after hearing all his life he was a Dark creature; less than human.

 _The spirit of the Wolf was gifted only to the bravest of warriors, who could survive the transformation with honour,_ Santos had told him, her youthful face in a mix of excitement and reverence. _When the Americas were colonised, the European wizards who took over feared the Wolf, and tried to annihilate its spirit. When they failed, the strategy changed to demonising the Wolf, instead. They turned the gift into a curse, so it could be controlled by human magic– their magic._

She had gone on about historical documents, numbers and dates that Remus could not retain. He kept on thinking of himself, though, of his father’s work since before he was bitten, and the packs of werewolves he had lived amongst. Remus was sure he had never _honoured_ the Wolf, or beared the transformation with enough courage to ever be considered one of the bravest of warriors. He thought of the Wolfsbane potion, too, and how it had been the greatest advancement in regards to lycanthropy in _centuries:_ a way to subdue the Wolf, to overpower it.

“Hermione told me most of it, but she says the Unspeakables take magical oaths that keep them from discussing details with uhm… friends, and family.” Harry continued, pulling Remus back to the present.

“They do, yes. She’d be risking some nasty spell damage if she tried to say too much.”

“But you can tell me, right? She told me Santos  had shown it all to you.”

“I… she did. Or at least only the part that matters to me. Santos says we can try and break the curse. Or…not, since it’s not a _curse_. We would be releasing the Wolf’s spirit back to the realm of the gods, where it comes from.”

Harry looked puzzled, an eyebrow disappearing into his mop of black hair, which was now grown enough to keep most of his forehead hidden. Remus wondered briefly if Harry had done it on purpose, to hide the scar people had been so eager to take a peek of these days, perhaps more than ever.

“As she put it, it would be more like politely declining a spiritual gift, instead of breaking a curse,” Remus explained.

“What if the.. uh...gods get offended, that you’re giving their present back?”

“That’s where it gets tricky,” Remus tried for a cheery tone.

“Oh?”

“I need to try it, though,” his voice had quickly lost the happy edge, turning into something more resolute.

Remus thought about the concept of _honour_ the Guarani wizards had valued so much – the bravery to defend one’s land and tribe; the willingness to sacrifice their own bodies and souls for the good of others who couldn’t do it for themselves. Remus looked at Harry for a moment and saw not the Saviour of their world, but Lily and James’ son whom they had died to protect. Sirius’ godson, whom he had barely enough time to get to know.

Teddy moved again, grabbing onto Remus’ shirt with strong, tiny fingers.

“I would, too.” Harry said, simply.

Properly awake, Teddy shrieked. Remus cradled him in his arms and stood up, just as Harry did.

“I’ve got him, you can go home.”

“Nah,” Harry shook his head, pulling out his wand and summoning Teddy’s bottle from where it’d fallen under the sofa. “I’ve already changed. I can go tomorrow. Maybe.”

Remus smiled.

“Fine by me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on [tumblr](https://letsdothepanic.tumblr.com/)!  
> i am super curious about your opinions on the magical theory and the werewolf mythology, so let me know if you'd like :)
> 
> another huuuuge thanks to the lovely [mags](https://loonyasalovegood.tumblr.com/) for the beta read and to [jenn](https://jennandblitz.tumblr.com/) for the hype. see you all next tuesday!


	3. Early November, 1998

_3 November – International Portkey Departure / 4 Jumps Scheduled._   
_4 November – Arrival in Buenos Aires._   
_5 November – Full Moon._

Remus eyed the piece of parchment Santos had owled him. Along with it was a letter to be given to the Unspeakable who would be meeting him in Buenos Aires and then accompanying him by Portkey to the Patagonian desert. They had decided it would be better to do the process as far away as possible from both muggle and magical people, _So there won’t be any interference,_ Santos had said.

 _So we don’t put anyone at risk,_ Remus had heard.

With a frown and a final check of his watch, he Apparated to the Tonks’ cottage. Andromeda still lived in the house she and Ted had shared, in the Middle of Nowhere, Cotswolds, England.

Made uncomfortable by being side-alonged, Teddy began crying almost immediately. Remus went through his list of things he might have forgotten – his blue blanket, the stuffed dragon and Teddy’s favourite soother were all carefully packed into his nappy bag. It would all be fine, he told himself, holding Teddy close and rocking him gently.

He smelt like watermelon shampoo and _baby_ , Remus thought, suddenly reluctant to ring Andromeda’s doorbell and announce their presence. Teddy smelt like _son,_ like _family._

Remus refused to let his eyes fill up, lest he get caught being sentimental by his dead wife’s mother, who already thought ill of him.

“You’re late,” the witch announced from inside the house, door open just enough to allow herself to be seen, her tone just loud enough to be heard over Teddy.

“I had to stop to pick up some documents at the Ministry,” Remus told her, dropping his things on the floor and readjusting his grip on Teddy, hoping it would calm him down.

Remus waited to be invited in, but Andromeda didn’t seem to want to.

“So you’re going through with it, then.”

It wasn’t a question. Her tone was defiant, and Remus could hear the Black in her timbre, see it in the way the light caught her sharp cheekbones. It made her look way too much like her sister.

Fighting Bellatrix’s face away from his mind, then, Remus tried to clear his throat and failed. Teddy shrieked.

“Surely you know what you’re doing, Lupin,” Andromeda took it as an opportunity to continue speaking, finally stepping outside in full. She motioned forward, then, arms open to receive her grandson.

“I trust the research, yes. And… this is not for me.”

“It sure isn’t.”

Andromeda’s gaze was still dark; lips pursed in distaste when her eyes landed on him.

“It’s not like I’m running away, Andromeda,” Remus told her. He placed a hand on the back Teddy’s head, rubbing his neck carefully. The baby’s crying subsided, but did not end.

“Not like you’re running away _again_ , you mean?”

 _Fair enough,_ Remus thought. Andromeda had been there for her daughter through his and Dora’s whole messy marriage, and she seemed to have decided to only remember the bad parts of it. Sadly, Remus didn’t have the time or the energy required to make amends, nor did he know _how_ to.

For a manic second, he entertained the idea of letting Andromeda use Legilimency on him, to let her see the happy memories that he and Dora had shared, that had made it all worth it; how they had fought side by side, and protected each other, how devoted Remus had been once he’d come back, and the kind of unexplainable joy he’d experienced for the first time the day Teddy was born.

“Just hand him to me, will you?” She called, impatient, interrupting his line of thought.

With a huff, Remus did as he was told, but didn’t step away. He was pleased to see how her expression had smoothed over once Andromeda had her grandson, but he couldn’t help the wave of frustration that coursed through his body when Teddy stopped crying a mere second after she’d picked him up.

 _Well, fuck,_ _then._

“We’ll have a good time, won’t we?” Andromeda cooed at the baby, and Remus had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“I’ll be back on Friday,’ He said, glad to hear the steadiness of his own voice. “They say it might be best to keep me for at least a day after the full, but I won’t stay longer than that.”

“Suit yourself, Lupin. We’ll be fine without you.”

He had nothing to say to that. Instead, he leant closer to Teddy, and spoke softly:

“Da loves you, y’ hear?” Remus could picture Andromeda scoffing. “ Da will be back soon. We’ll go out, see Harry fly,” he continued, voice thickening. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Remus waved his wand, making colourful sparks fly. Teddy laughed, and it made Remus’ smile watery. When he bowed down to give him one last kiss, Teddy’s fine hair tickled his nose.

Hours later, Remus felt only a bit guilty when he realised he’d kept one of Teddy’s blankets, shrunken down and tucked inside his the inner pocket of his jacket. One sniff was enough to brush the guilt away, filling his lungs with warm, familiar comfort.

_Watermelon. Baby. Son._

 

_***_

Remus had seen the moon before.

He had studied and watched it a day prior to and a day after it became full in human form throughout the years, and felt its pull to his blood in fear and anticipation. Remus had howled at it after transforming, too. The powerful sound had stricken strangers with horror, no matter how far from the forest they were. And he had probably gazed at it as a child, before the bite, no one around him aware of what was fated to be.

All his life Remus had looked at the moon, and cursed at it, and wondered about the secrets of magic and nature he reckoned he would never be allowed to know.

But there in the desert, the whole sky looked different from what he had seen before. He hadn’t expected the night to be cold, or the wind to bite into his skin the way it did. It was late Spring there, and the moonlight was surprisingly bright. The mountains glowed under the stars, all clouds gone. There were _colours_ to be seen, even with the moon at its peak: blue and violet and crimson and _white_.

Remus asked himself how could people possibly refer to space as _nothingness_ when there was so much to see.

With only the grainy ground and the far mountains for company, he savoured the ache that bloomed in the back of his neck for looking up too long. He couldn’t feel it anymore, the pull. His chest felt full, but not of the longing he had grown so used to experiencing. The cold air went in and out of his lungs with ease, and as sore as his muscles were, there was this new underlying promise of _rest_.

He could still feel the Wolf out there.

“Out,” he repeated, _outside of my body._

His laugh rang into the night like ancient music.

Standing under the moonlight didn’t feel the same as being bathed by the sun during the day, but there was still warmth in its gleam. Remus had paid his respects during the ritual, and he knew somehow that the Wolf had been pleased to be set free. There was a depth to the inky blue-violet of the sky, and though it was a familiar notion, being able to visualise it still surprised him.

He could tell some of the stars were nearer and some were further from the Earth, shimmering millions of kilometres away. For minutes or hours, Remus thought of the people he had lost and wondered whether their spirits were near or far from the living.

He watched the night away lying down, arms pillowed underneath his head as the hard ground straightened his back and he held on to Teddy’s blanket. Remus lay down and looked up until the first rays of dawn showed from behind the mountains, preceded by the three little stars in Orion’s belt.

And then, right before sunrise, there it was.

 _Sirius_.

The dog star was most visible in the late Spring, right before Summer came. Thousands of years ago, muggles and wizards alike had associated its first appearance in the night sky to rain and floods and irreparable damage, but also to warmth and new life, Remus remembered; the memory of _his_ Sirius reciting the words all too vivid.

Remus kept his eyes on Sirius-the-star until they prickled and burnt. Tears ran freely into his unkempt beard and they brought him a sense of _relief_ he felt he had never been allowed before.

Remus cried until his chest heaved and he choked on his breaths, relishing the fact that he was alone, with no one to judge him for it. He let the tears wash over everything, from the new wounds to old anguishes he barely recognised anymore.

Time passed and his cheeks dried, salty and raw.

The sun shone, climbing from behind the mountains slowly but surely.

It was time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but it was my favourite to write so far! 
> 
> thank you all so much for telling me your impressions of the story and for leaving such lovely, thoughtful comments. you've warmed my heart impossibly, and i love you all for it.
> 
> so, did you like sirius' first appearance? ;) 
> 
> let me know here or on [tumblr](https://letsdothepanic.tumblr.com/) ♥


	4. Mid-November, 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was beta read by [mags](https://loonyasalovegood.tumblr.com/) and hyped by [jenn](https://jennandblitz.tumblr.com/)! thank you, lovelies, for the support! ♥
> 
> also thank you to the anon who shot me a message on tumblr about a little mistake on the last chapter!

Scratching at his beard with a free hand while the other held his wand up, Remus watched Harry and Hermione enchant several pieces of furniture they had brought over from Grimmauld Place.

Both of the armchairs had reacted well to having been shrunk and then un-shrunk, their smooth, velvet cushions still in seemingly perfect condition after a hundred years of strain. The carpets looked fine after a round of cleansing charms to get rid of the dust and grime, and the desk they’d managed to transfigure to fit under the sitting room’s window looked pretty good as well.

While the kids did the repositioning of the pieces, Remus worked on the varnish coat on the chairs’ legs until they shone, making an effort not to think of the people who had sat there before him.

For the first time since he’d been to school, the joint in his shoulder didn’t hurt from holding his wand-bearing arm up for too long. His neck wasn’t stiff from having spent the afternoon standing up, and his knees didn’t ache from crawling on the floor with Teddy that morning. Remus felt energised in an unfamiliar way; nothing like the anxious spike of his heartbeat that used to leave him dizzy and would keep him from sleeping. His body felt settled, whole.

And he hadn’t actively thought of Sirius in three hours and fourteen minutes, Remus calculated with a glance at an antique clock Harry had hung in the hallway between the kitchen and the sitting room; one that he remembered having seen near Regulus’ room. Definitely another win in his books.

It had been hard, not to let his mind wander while his apartment was slowly filled with Ancient and Noble end tables and bookshelves, straight from the House of Black. Morbid as it was to see Harry bring everything over,  Remus couldn’t find it in himself to say no to it. The quality of the pieces was undeniable, he justified, and it would be a waste to throw them all away. It didn’t matter that Sirius’ ancestors had gotten those chairs by doing shady deals with Dark wizards. It was just furniture, after all.

Besides, Harry seemed happy to be furnishing Remus’ flat while also getting rid of the things he had inherited so he could buy new décor for himself. It was the first time he’d been allowed to buy things for himself like that, he had half-confessed the day after Remus had gotten back from Argentina – and Remus had wanted to be supportive.

In the end, Remus had to admit that the apartment was starting to look rather decent, if not a bit posh. He had finally had the opportunity to unpack the rest of his book collection, which had been carelessly stored inside his old monogrammed briefcase years ago with an Undetectable Extension Charm. The small library was now organised by his favourite cataloguing system, on solid walnut bookshelves. It was the first time any of the wooden furnishings in his home had matched, Remus had realised with a little laugh one night when he, Harry and Hermione were eating muggle pizza from paper plates that rested on his new centuries-old coffee table.

Both kids had become constant presences in the last couple of weeks, since Remus had come back from the desert. Harry was there to see Teddy every other day at least, and Hermione had been happy to browse through all the books at first, and then begun to show up for tea and sometimes dinner after work. The three of them had spent a fair share of evenings eating and discussing topics ranging from the current British Quidditch cup to Hermione’s work in the Department of Mysteries.

When he wasn’t assisting Harry with his “redecorating” of Grimmauld Place, Remus was with him and Teddy at a muggle park nearby, off to Ottery St. Catchpole where they visited Mrs. Weasley and Harry flew his broom, or browsing through magical toy shops in Diagon Alley. Remus would watch Harry pick all kinds of things for Teddy quietly: he had given up on telling Harry not to spend money on Teddy pretty quickly, for his resistance had been proven futile. He often had to hide a smile when he noticed Harry looking at magical games made for much older children.

“Maybe we can give it a spin, see if it’s alright for him to play with?” He had asked about what looked like a pretty complicated board game, to which Remus had only nodded.

Two days later, they’d had the game pieces spread out on a very soft and expensive-looking beige carpet that had come from the library at Grimmauld; the multi-coloured pieces most definitely a choking hazard for a seven-month-old baby. That weekend, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had had a great time shouting and laughing over the game’s enchanted board while Remus and Teddy played with toy musical instruments and stuffies on the other side of the room.

Despite having decided to come back to Hogwarts for the year, Ron was still allowed to go home on weekends. When Remus had questioned Minerva about it, she had told him it had been a tough decision, to change such a traditional school policy, but that it’d been inevitable. None of the kids who had fought in the war were just regular students anymore, and keeping them away from their families while the whole community was still healing didn’t seem to make sense.

Remus had heard from Minerva consistently since his return. She had not given up on having him as part of the Hogwarts’ staff; her newest idea being to have him rewrite the Defense Against the Dark Arts syllabus, so they could update the content that was to be covered, as well as their Defense teaching technique. According to “reliable sources” – Remus had shot Harry a playful glare at that when he read it aloud from the letter – Remus’ methods had proven to be the most effective the school had come across in recent years.

Having had Ron over the last two Saturdays (Sundays were reserved for luncheon at The Burrow, to which all of them were invited; Teddy being the guest of honour and Molly’s absolute favourite), Remus had wondered about Ginevra’s absence. He had quickly decided not to ask Harry about it, though, not after he’d seen how skittish Harry looked whenever her name popped up in conversation.

“Ron mentioned her team beat Ravenclaw with a difference of 470 points last weekend… he’s still not happy taking orders from her, but she’s supposed to be a great Captain.” Hermione told Harry conversationally.

He made a face and accidentally ruined the old throw pillow he was trying to clean.

“Did the scouts come to see her play?” Harry asked, distractedly, vanishing the maimed pillow and turning his attention to the next one.

“Yeah. The Harpies are interested… might offer her a contract for next season. Though I thought she would’ve told you herself, Harry. Are you two okay?”

“Uh?”

“Do you lot want me to get dinner?” Remus asked, easing the chair he’d been working on back down to the floor.

Harry looked grateful for the interruption.

“I’ll do it,” he offered.

“You don’t have to go all the way over to the restaurant; just call them on the phone,” Remus suggested, to which Harry nodded and walked to the kitchen, to use the only telephone in the house.

Hermione turned her puzzled look to Remus, who shrugged and proceeded to walk inside to check on Teddy. Hermione followed him.

“I always forget about the phone,” she told him, and he was glad she hadn’t asked about Harry, instead.

Teddy was just waking up from his nap, which Remus regretted having put him down for so late. They were still having trouble with his sleep schedule.

“Dora got the phone installed years ago, so she and Ted could talk. It was a little tradition they’d had with her muggle grandparents, growing up.”

“And now you use it to order takeaway?”

“Yeah,” Remus smiled rather sadly, picking Teddy up. He’d just started to fuss. “Harry tried to get one for Grimmauld, but there was too much magical interference.”

Hermione nodded at that.

“I’ve got one in my flat, to talk to my parents,” she said.

“How’re they doing?”

“They’re still… shaken. It’s been hard for them, to come back to their lives here. Their friends were confused about why they had just dropped everything to go on a cruise for a whole year, and so was the rest of the family. It’s been hard to… reintegrate… having to keep so many secrets.”

Remus listened, humming sympathetically. He could only imagine was a mess the Grangers’ lives were at the moment. It was easy to lose count of the people who had been affected by the war, even indirectly.

“Do they know what happened?”

“I told them about it.” Hermione straightened Teddy’s pillows, avoiding Remus’ gaze. “They were confused at first, but once I told them we had basically saved the world from wizard Hitler, they were proud.”

Remus didn’t expect her to laugh.

“I’m just glad it’s all over,” Hermione finally breathed out, seeming to relax.

Carrying a rather restless Teddy back to the living room, then, he waited for her to keep on talking. She didn’t.

When they returned to the sitting room, Harry was waiting for them with a new batch of toys scattered on top of the same beige rug they had played the board game on. This time everything looked baby-appropriate, luckily enough.

Remus had to hold back a snort when Harry was startled by a brightly-coloured cube that spat a surge of magical bubbles into his face when he inserted a cylinder-shaped block into a round slot.

Teddy seemed to like the bubbles, though, and squealed merrily at the sight of them. He had just started making sounds that resembled words, and Remus was convinced he’d say “Da” any day now.

“Food should be here in twenty!” Harry announced, taking Teddy from Remus and bringing him over to play with the magical cube.

Rolling his shoulders, Remus heard his joints crack. Oddly enough, it felt like things were cracking _into_ place this time, despite the ugly noise.

He immediately thought of the way Sirius would have teased him, like he’d done many a time before. _You old man_ , he’d call him, running bony fingers through Remus’ greying hair as they lay on the carpet Remus had decided to pretend wasn’t the one in his living room right now.

With a bitter expression he’d tried to hide from the kids, Remus took three half-pint beer bottles from the refrigerator, instead of the Butterbeer he’d originally come into the room to get.

Harry raised an eyebrow when he received his.

“Cheers,” Remus said, simply.

“What are we toasting to?” Harry asked.

“Anything you want to tell us?” Hermione gestured towards the letter with the Hogwarts crest Remus had left on the desk by the window.

“Oh, that’s nothing. Minerva thinks I should go back to teaching. She keeps finding ways to try to convince me. This time she says she needs my help rewriting the Defense syllabus.”

“I told him to say yes already,” Harry laughed, popping the cap off his beer and taking a swig from it. Remus ignored the way he had used the handle end of his wand to do it, just like Lily used to.

“I’m sure parents won’t be much happier to have an _ex_ werewolf teaching their children than they were to have an actual werewolf,” he retorted, the idea still sounding surreal. _Ex_ _werewolf_. He wanted to laugh.

“Things have changed,” Harry offered. “They’re just gonna have to get used to it.”

Remus took a moment to consider it. He had his eye on Teddy, who was sitting with his little back propped against the sofa, and was too busy gnawing and drooling on a rectangular-shaped block to try and fit it into any of the slots in the cube.

“You know what they say. Screw the haters, professor,” Hermione shrugged, holding back a laugh and raising her drink in Remus’ direction.

“Language!” Harry shushed her, a second before laughing himself.

Remus shook his head, surprised to notice he was actually warming up to the idea. He missed having work to do, if he was honest, and teaching had been something he had found truly rewarding; the feeling of causing a positive impact on those kids lives something he had realised brought him a sense of fulfilment he had never thought he’d experience. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have his own source of income, with the issue of Dora’s pension still tender.

Interrupting his train of thought, Teddy yelped something that sounded like “S’wew!” from his place on the carpet.

“See, I told you!” Harry cackled, throwing his bottle cap at Hermione, who stopped it mid-air with a flick of her wand.

Remus shot her a faux-stern look and didn’t have the heart to tell Harry it was a miracle his own first word hadn’t been ‘fuck’, thanks to Sirius and the amount of cursing he had done around his infant godson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, do you think that counts as teddy's first word? haha 
> 
> i have this clear image in my head, of james covering baby harry's ears so he won't hear sirius cursing, and it makes me sad and happy at the same time. 
> 
> once again, thank you all for the great response this fic has gotten!
> 
> i'm on [tumblr](https://letsdothepanic.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat! see you tuesday! ♥


	5. Late November, 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, i want to send some love to [comaraudery](https://comaraudery.tumblr.com/)/MxPadfoot, for the sweetest messages i've ever received on tumblr! thank you so much for telling me your impressions about the story and for sharing headcanons and allowing me to squeal even more about how much i love remus lupin!
> 
> and, as always, a shout out to [jenn](https://jennandblitz.tumblr.com/), my snakey twin, for being the wind beneath my wings when it comes to this fic! thank you for beta'ing this chapter and letting me ramble endlessly about it to you. 💖

_Things had been well_ , Remus mused as he willed his heart to stop beating so bloody fast. Things had been perfectly well, with the flat fully furnished by Harry and Hermione and Ronald, and the sound of laughter and life filling the space that the absence of Dora had left so quiet over the last seven months.

Teddy had been growing, too, Remus reminded himself, picturing the Infant Healer and the way she had smiled at him when they removed Teddy from the magical scale on his last appointment.

“Attaboy Teddy!” Healer Malcolm had cooed, passing Remus the baby. At the sound of his name, Teddy had beamed and squealed happily, as if he hadn’t been wailing and screaming five minutes prior.

The Healer had instructed Remus to hold Teddy this and that way then, and pointed her wand at various points in his body. Malcolm had smiled appreciatively and given her quill instructions, dictating a bunch of numbers that sounded like good news.

“Is he still on Nourishing Potion?”

Remus had nodded a silent ‘yes’, and watched the scene with relief washing over him.

Things were _fine_ , Remus had told himself at the hospital, most certainly missing the hopeful looks that Healer Malcolm had shot him on his way out – or the lingering touch to his arm when he left, the baby resting against his chest, secured by their sling.

So, _really_ , there was no reason to be this anxious, Remus told himself back at home, taking a deep breath and turning his attention back to the task at hand.

With a bit of a grimace, Remus pulled a knitted jumper from one of the higher shelves in his wardrobe. It had been a Christmas present from his in-laws; an expensive-looking, dark sea-green cashmere jumper that Andromeda had told him _complemented his brown eyes fairly well._ One which Remus had chucked to the top shelf of his wardrobe so he wouldn’t be tempted to wear it and ruin it.

Though without the excuse of having to stay behind and care for Teddy – who Molly had taken a couple of hours earlier, with a smile that had made her now permanently tired-looking eyes crinkle at the corners – there was no way Remus was skipping the dinner invitation Bill and Fleur had sent him a week ago. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been to an actual social event, as small as this one seemed, and the anxiety over showing up and being somehow inadequate had been eating away at Remus for most of the day.

The green jumper would have to do, he resolved, pulling it over his grey button-down and glancing at the mirror to make sure it didn’t have any moth-eaten bits, or if it looked too big around his shoulders– _Merlin knew_ he had lost weight since last Christmas.

Remus was surprised to see it _didn’t_ look bad at all; the soft wool seemingly tailored to his frame.

He looked rather _decent_ , Remus thought, scratching at his beard and deciding not to shave it off. Despite his hair having gone grey all around his temples, with specks of silver peppered all over his curls, Remus’ facial hair was still mostly brown– which gave him a feeling it made him look somewhat younger.

Trying not to let himself dwell on how ridiculous the thought might be, he gave his reflection one last check for something that might be out of place and left the bedroom. As Remus picked up the bottle of wine he’d bought for the hosts – that was a thing people were supposed to do, wasn’t it? – he took another deep breath and _Scourgified_ a porridge stain off his trousers.

* * *

 

Apparatting to Shell Cottage felt strangely familiar.

Remus had been told that the wards of Fleur and Bill’s property would let him in immediately, so there was no walk between the Apparition point and the house – which meant no extra time to worry again about how he looked, or how awkward he felt. All Remus had left to do was give the door a polite knock and wait, trying to school his expression into something amicable rather than awkward.

A second later, there were heavy steps coming from the inside.

“Remus!” Bill greeted him excitedly, and Remus was surprised by the one-armed hug he was pulled into.

They had grown rather close in the last months of the war, him and Bill. Remus had been there for him after Greyback’s attack, helping him process what it could mean, to bear the attack’s scars for every wizard and witch out there to see.

Bill had held his spirits up through everything, always keeping a determinately positive attitude and refusing to let the marks on his face keep him from his plans of being a prestigious cursebreaker, or starting a family. Remus had been envious of his determination to stay cheerful, yes, but mostly of the fact that Bill had not been fully turned.

It had made him feel guilty, to have such pointless negative feelings, and Remus had tried his best to turn that into inspiration, instead. Bill’s approach to being scarred by Fenrir had pushed Remus to try and make the best out of his _own_ situation – and Bill _himself_ had pushed Remus to see how lucky he was to have Dora and Teddy on the way at the time.

 _After_ the Battle, Bill had been there to offer his support through the process of Dora’s funeral and burial – talking to Andromeda, making sure Remus could have a say in the ceremony.

Still, the physical affection wasn’t something Remus was used to – and he prayed it didn’t show, especially when Fleur made sure to hug him as well, kissing both of his cheeks in a friendly way.

Remus had distanced himself from everyone in the last six months, and being greeted with such affection by old friends made him feel hopeful. Maybe he hadn’t managed to push them away _for good_ , he thought.

“What a lovely vintage! You didn’t have to bring anything, Remus,” Fleur told him in her now faded Franch accent as she took the bottle from his hands and guided them all properly inside.

The wine was quickly opened, and the three of them sat in the small dining room, where there were plates laid out for four. The breeze that came in through the window was pleasant, especially as the fire roared in the hearth. The smell of the ocean was present but not overwhelming, and Remus was quick to relax, accepting a glass from the hostess gladly.

“How’s the little one?” Bill was the first to ask, an arm draped over the back of his wife’s chair. He sounded genuinely interested, and it made Remus smile.

“Teddy is all Molly talks about. Someone’s been getting ideas,” Fleur teased, laughing softly as she turned to look at Bill; her interest piqued only when Remus pulled out his wallet, unfolding the row of pictures he had taken of Teddy recently.

“Chatty little monkey, he is.” Remus smiled proudly, showing them pictures of Teddy playing with an assortment of magical toys – the cutest of them, in his opinion, the one where his son would enthusiastically hug a lion stuffie and morph his hair to match the toy’s mane. “Swear he can say ‘Da’ already,” he told them, passing along the pictures so Bill and Fleur could look at them properly.

“Mum says Percy could say twenty words by the time he was nine months old. I’d be careful if I were you,” Bill laughed, and Fleur smacked him playfully on the arm.

“I’m sure Teddy won’t turn into Percy any time soon, _mon chér_ ,” she teased her husband, and it was Remus’ time to laugh.

They fell into friendly conversation, then, between tasty appetisers and the wine Remus had brought; which was followed by a second bottle of red that was half-way empty by the moment Bill’s and Fleur’s wands both lit up. It meant someone was trying to get past the house’s wards, Remus heard Bill explain, and a sudden shiver ran down his spine.

Noticing his reaction, Fleur reached to touch his wrist.

“We’re still adjusting the new spells. It’s nothing to worry about,” she assured him, and Remus was pleased to notice it worked.

A moment of silence passed between them. Both Remus and Fleur knew what broken house wards would have meant only months ago, and he felt glad to be understood– glad to know he was not being judged by reacting in a fearful way.

“Lots of things have changed since the war,” he told her, letting out a breath of air and offering her a shy smile.

Fleur poured him more wine.

“You know, Bill is too polite to ask about the cure,” she said, without taking her gaze off the wine glasses. Fleur twirled her wand between her fingers before cleaning a crimson stain off the tablecloth.

Remus took a sip from his glass, waiting for her to continue.

“I’m really not a werewolf anymore, if that’s what he’s wondering,” he told her simply, when the witch didn’t finish her thought. “The cure wouldn’t really help Bill, though, if that’s what he’s wondering. He’s got secondary damage–”

“We’re not worried about that” she interrupted him, waving a hand between them.

Remus felt his face flush, and made quick work of taking a long pull from the wine. He hadn’t meant to insult her, or Bill for that matter.

“We’re just happy for you.” Fleur smiled though, not looking cross in the slightest.

Remus let the sentiment sink in, eating another canapé to stall giving her a response.

“And I’m sure Nym’s happy too, for you and Teddy. Wherever she’s watching you from.”

 _Nym_.

The sound of Remus choking on his bit of toast and paté was muffled by the sound of the front door opening to let Bill and their second guest inside. Fleur regarded Remus with polite amusement throughout his coughing fit, and Remus tried to pass it off as nothing too worrisome.

He had never heard anyone call Tonks _Nym_ before.

“This just in: _best curse-breaker in Gringott’s_ can’t make his house wards let his own brother in-–” Remus heard a mocking voice call from somewhere behind his head.

Charlie looked windswept and sunburnt at the same time, his hair standing at all angles from having been left waiting outside in the cold; but the colour across the bridge of his nose didn’t seem to have been caused by the sad, grey weather they’d been having lately.

“Looking good, Lupin,” he added, good-natured face open in a smile.

Remus barely noticed he had stood up and caught himself reciprocating Charlie’s hug with more enthusiasm than he had Bill’s or Fleur’s.

They hadn’t seen each other since– _June? Maybe?_ Remus tried to calculate, briefly distracted by the strength of the arms around his torso.

Charlie had been quiet throughout Dora’s funeral. He had sat by the Weasley matriarch during the entire ceremony, moving only to hand her a hankie every now and then. Remus knew well of Charlie and Dora’s friendship, of how close they had been at school. He remembered being put off by their intimacy when he had first been introduced to Charlie as Dora’s _boyfriend_ , and of how she had laughed at him when Remus asked if their relationship had ever been anything but platonic.

 _We snogged once in year four,_ Dora had told him. _Purely experimental. It was enough for him to realise he was too queer for me,_ she had laughed, and Remus had done his best to do the same.

He could see the appeal, he thought now, stopping his brain from picturing 14 year-olds Dora and Charlie getting off together. Remus easily figured Charlie wouldn’t have had as broad of a frame back then, or the colourful tattoos covering his arms, but– Remus blamed his mental ramblings on the wine and stepped away, quickly falling back into conversation with everyone.

Teddy’s photographs went around the table once more, and Remus talked about Harry and the ‘redecorating’ of his flat. He recounted some anecdotes about cursed objects they’d had to fix before removing them from Grimmauld – “I can’t believe we missed that bloody armoire on the _first_ time we went through the house!” Bill interjected at some point – and the conversation strayed to Order meetings and getting pissed at pubs after them.

Remus refrained from talking about what _he_ had been up to, after those meetings– about staying behind to keep Sirius company, about seeing Sirius’ spirits crushed further and further by his old family house.

For the first time in years, Remus thought of Grimmauld Place as the _home_ it was for the better part of ‘95 and ‘96, eating and drinking mechanically until his plate and glass were empty and the subject had shifted to something less grim.

“You alright, mate?”

Charlie was the one to ask; a gentle, large hand on Remus’ bicep. It was only then that Remus noticed Bill and Fleur had retreated to the kitchen to take out their plates.

“Just haven’t had this much to drink in a while,” he lied, adding a little laugh to his sentence in hopes of making his tone lighter.

Charlie’s touch lingered.

“You shouldn’t be Apparating home, then.”

Remus nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. He wasn’t as pissed as he would have to be to grow quiet as he had in normal circumstances, but he had certainly drunk enough wine to put him in danger of splinching himself. A brief doubt about werewolf metabolism crossed his mind, but he was quick to dismiss the thought. Certainly the benefits of having been cured outweighed the ability to consume alcohol at the rates he had been used to.

“Come on, I’ll get you through the Floo,” Charlie offered, pulling him back from his thoughts.

Remus didn’t feel like saying no.

He let Charlie help him off his chair, then, even though he didn’t really _need_ to. He laughed as the younger man moved to help him with his coat as well, and promised him he wasn’t _that_ bad.

“Ladies and gents, I might be getting old,” Remus announced cheerfully when Fleur and Bill returned to the dining room, all secret chuckles and flushed cheeks.

“Left the drinking and Apparating days in my twenties,” he explained, to ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from his companions.

The hosts’ state when they came back from the kitchen would have been their cue to leave anyway, Remus told himself then, accepting Bill’s excited clap on the shoulder and Fleur’s cheek kisses more easily now than he had when he arrived.

As they said their goodbyes, he watched as Charlie took a handful of shimmery green powder from the box on the mantle and threw it into the flames.

“C’mon, old man,” Charlie called, and Remus hoped he had pronounced his address clearly before they stepped into the hearth.

 _Sirius_ ’ lips curled around the words _old man_ behind Remus’ closed eyelids and his heart sank. Suddenly Remus was back on the floor of Grimmauld Place’s library, lying on his side and having his nose tickled by the proximity of the ancient cream-coloured carpet’s fibres. He could feel Sirius’ bony fingers in his hair, the warmth of Sirius’ breath mixed to the magical flames that licked at his sides.

Remus felt himself spin around, the Floo ride harsh on his already sensitive stomach. He could still feel Charlie’s hand on the small of his back, and for a second it was too hard to breathe.

“Safe and sound,” Charlie smiled when Remus stumbled out of the fireplace; his face suddenly turned worried by what Remus expected was his own expression. “Or are we?”

“I’m brill,” Remus told him, standing straight and brushing the soot off his jumper.

Charlie took a few seconds to observe him, apparently deciding whether to believe Remus’ statement or not.

“So not too wankered?” he asked, and Remus felt himself flush red, the tips of his ears threatening to burst into flames when Charlie took a step forward, into his personal space.

Charlie’s look was questioning, and Remus could now see through the layer of confidence that usually made his expression so open. He knew that Charlie’s inquiry went beyond whether he was too drunk to take this into consideration – what _this_ was becoming clearer by the second, with the way the air became charged around them.

The flat was empty, Remus thought – Molly had Teddy and Harry had told him he would probably spend the night at the Burrow himself. There was no one there, no people between them, or at least no _live_ people at that.

It made Remus want to laugh for a second – a panicked, manic laugh, at how absurd and pathetic the thought was. They were _dead_ he told himself. His flat was empty, as his bed had been for seven months and for a painful, painful period before that. There was nothing between them, no large quantities of alcohol enough to cloud his judgement. It might have been easier if he had been drunker, Remus considered, his exhaling breath seemingly too loud in the silence of the flat.

Remus could hear his own heart beating, and the rhythm felt essentially different from the rapid one from before he had left to Shell Cottage, hours ago. He wasn’t anxious now, this was something else. It wasn’t exactly doubt, but something different. Not fear; something _sadder_.

He did not feel like delving into it, though, not when Charlie looked up at him from behind those thick eyelashes – his sunburnt nose particularly endearing on the warm, dim light that filtered into the sitting room through the kitchen’s door.

“Not too wankered, no.”

* * *

 

When Remus’ hand found the back of Charlie’s neck, his brain was half-expecting long, silky black hair to tangle his fingers into.

When they stumbled into his bedroom and off their clothes, Remus was most certain he’d see fine bones and pale skin, instead of an abundance of freckles and colourful tattoos and burn scars.

When the morning came, Remus could hear the sound of heavy boots against the wooden floors, the sound soft and yet foreign to his ears.

Remus opened his eyes just enough to see his guest stretch and yawn, his muscled back turned to him.

“I was about to wake you. George’s waiting for me at Diagon,” Charlie said gently, turning towards him with a smile.

“Tell Teds I said hullo, yeah?” He took his time to pull a shirt over his head, unselfconscious and unhurried.

“Will do,” Remus replied, voice thick with sleep.

“See you around, Remus,” Charlie smiled.

The Apparition _crack_ rang loudly in the grey quietness of the early hours and he was gone; the flat empty once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a tidbit no one asked for: i've had a doc titled "about charlie weasley" saved in my drafts folder since 16 september last year, which consists only of that one paragraph in GoF with harry's adorable impression of charlie when they meet for the first time. i guess i knew it would come in handy sometime? ha
> 
> some inspo for the charlie & tonks' relationship came from [this rp thread by asktheboywholived & sirussly](https://asktheboywholived.tumblr.com/post/185342193457/how-to-train-your-redhead-masterpost-remus-has), though this chapter was outlined long before that got posted.
> 
> anyway, let me know if you -- like me, and canon harry and now remus -- are also thirsty for charlie weasley, here or on [tumblr](https://letsdothepanic.tumblr.com). see you next week! 💖


	6. Christmas, 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am very sorry for the lack of an update last week! this really shouldn't happen again, since i've got winter holidays on the horizon and that should help me write more consistently!
> 
> as always, a big thank you to **jennandblitz** for her support & the brit help!

Christmas morning in the Cotswolds was a busier affair than Remus had anticipated. His decision of stopping by a muggle bakery to get mince pies on his way to pick up Teddy from Andromeda’s house had made him late to do so, after waiting in line for several minutes. It had been worth it, in his opinion: the pies smelt heavenly, and it hadn’t been completely unpleasant to be around all those cheery people, ready to celebrate the holidays with their families. Remus truly hoped that the baked goods would help take Andromeda’s mind off his tardiness, though.

He hadn’t questioned her about her plans for the day – she had asked if she could have Teddy on Christmas Eve, and Remus had taken it as an opportunity to spend the night away from home without having to ask Harry directly if he would mind babysitting. 

The couple of times he’d had to do it – both for the same reason, Remus thought, a certain sense of shame or something of the sorts making his stomach clench – had already been awkward enough, even though Harry didn’t seem bothered by it. Or at least not by the part about staying at the flat and watching Teddy. What he was not thrilled about was the look that took over Harry’s face as Remus stammered and danced around the subject of _why_ he would need someone to stay with the baby for the night.

Charlie had decided to stay in England until the holidays, and that lead to him and Remus meeting again; repeating the night after Bill and Fleur’s dinner party at least a few times. It had been difficult for Remus, to say yes to a second _rendezvous_ –  the note Charlie had owled him sitting hauntingly on the dinner table for a good six hours until Remus could gather the courage to address it –  but once Charlie had emerged from the hearth and flashed Remus a killer smile and a bottle of Merlot, things had gotten easier.

It took effort, to take his mind away from his ghosts and the baby in the other room, and Remus could feel the guilt eating away at him as every piece of clothing came off– the feeling that he was cheating on _someone_ finding a way to creep in every time he kept his eyes open for too long. Perhaps it had been a bad idea, to bring in the furniture from Grimmauld Place, he would think as he picked up toys from the sitting room floor by hand, wand forgotten somewhere in his bedroom. _Maybe it had been a bad idea, to surround himself with the presence of someone who could never be there again for real_ , Remus would think, absentmindedly scratching at his beard before shaking his head in dismay.

Instead of calling their arrangement off, though, Remus had decided to meet Charlie somewhere else, instead. Away from the flat, he had figured, there wouldn’t be as many distractions, and he would be able to enjoy their time together as… whatever they were. Friends, he thought, trying to paint it in an innocent mental light; two men who would sleep together and then slip into a rather easy camaraderie that had nothing to do with anything Remus had ever done with a person he had slept with, before. He didn’t have romantic feelings for Charlie, he knew it and, at the end of the day, it was a relief to know they were on the same page. 

“You could still come to Mum and Dad’s for Christmas, you know,” Charlie had told him much earlier that morning. 

Charlie’s short hair clung to his forehead thanks to a thin sheen of sweat, the tanned colour of his face having faded slightly since the first time they had done this, leaving his freckles a tad more prominent. He looked good, Remus thought, and relished the feeling of knowing it was all there was to it; an acknowledgement of an objective fact. Charlie was handsome and good with his tongue and they had taken marvellous advantage of it the hour prior. _Nothing to feel guilty about._

“I might swing by with Teddy later on,” Remus had said simply, stretching his arms above his head. 

He had meant it; Harry would be at the Burrow as well, and it would probably make sense, to come by later in the day. It was Teddy’s first Christmas after all, he had thought. He had wanted to spend time alone with his son, wanted them to have that moment. That was why he had gotten a Christmas tree after all, which Harry had helped them decorate. 

Not much had gone as he had planned in… however long, Remus realised with a small huff, hot breath condensing immediately in front of him, after leaving the bake shop. It wasn’t supposed to snow until night, not there anyway, but the morning was still a bit too dark. The blinking lights on the streets were just visible enough, though, and it made for a nice view. As he clutched the bakery’s bag closer to his chest, the wind whipping at his face, Remus thought it would be a pity if his pies got cold too soon.

Just a few more metres and he was able to enter a small side street, where there were no muggles in sight. Getting a notification for jeopardising the Statute of Secrecy was not on Remus’ list of priorities for the day, so he made a point of looking around for a _third_ time before Apparating to Andromeda’s front porch, like he had done so many times in the past few months.

Remus did not expect to find the front door adorned with more of the Christmas lights he had seen in town: electrically powered, as well, from what he could tell. There were shimmery paper snowflakes hanging from the window frames, as well as a beautiful, natural garland of holly and mistletoe greeting visitors at the door. With a surprised look, Remus noticed Andromeda’s welcome mat had been replaced by one with a chubby-cheeked Father Christmas on it, surrounded by reindeer and snowy fir trees, wishing him a ‘Merry Christmas!’ in bold, silver letters.

Caught off-guard by the decorations, Remus took what felt like whole minutes to bring himself to knock on the door.

“Would you like to come inside?” 

Andromeda’s tone was amiable, and Remus followed her into the house without replying.

He had not been inside since before the Battle, and he did not know what to expect of the house. Remus had never stopped to consider whether Andromeda would have changed anything since her husband and daughter had passed away. It made him feel selfish.

 “Thank you for letting me have him on Christmas Eve” was the first thing he could register from what Andromeda had told him since opening the door.

Remus was relieved to see in her expression that her gratitude was sincere, and that she did not seem put off by the fact that she was handing Teddy back, or that Remus had arrived later than they had agreed he would.

“He’s your grandson; I wouldn’t have said no,” he told her in a small voice, still taking in the sitting room.

The sofa was still the same as last time, as were the overstuffed armchairs and the curtains on the windows, though the floor was now littered with children’s toys. Pictures of the three smiling Tonks were abundant, framed and arranged on the fireplace mantel, as well as on the wall across from the main window. 

His favourite one was still there, Remus was glad to see – a picture of Dora and her father on what looked like her graduation from the Auror training program. She looked radiant on her brand new Auror robes, her bubblegum pink hair clashing fabulously with the sombre colour of the Ministry-issued uniform. Remus loved how Ted would wrap her in the tightest hug, spin her around and put her down again in a loop; their happiness flooding the scene. It contrasted with the picture below it in the most amusing way, Remus thought, taking in the frilly dress someone had undoubtedly forced an eight-year-old Dora into. She looked ready to commit murder, or at least to rip off all the bows from the headband someone had made her wear, and he knew she would have smacked him if he ever dared call her _adorable_ in the photograph.

A sudden pang of longing caught Remus by surprise and, for a moment, all he could think of was _how_ did Andromeda manage to live among so many vivid reminders of the daughter and husband she had lost.

“Teddy and I had a lovely time,” she told Remus eventually, picking the baby up from his playpen.

“I brought mince pies!” he replied, still slightly confused after being brought back from his line of thought.

Remus unpacked the pastries, then. They _did_ smell divine and, against all odds, still felt warm to the touch.

“Are you going to Molly and Arthur’s for lunch?”

Remus had not expected her to ask about their plans; he hadn’t even expected to be invited in, in the first place. 

“Cissa and Draco are coming here,” Andromeda continued. 

Remus knew that they, unlike Lucius, had been spared from prison after the war, thanks to Harry’s testimony. Narcissa Malfoy had lied to Voldemort to save her son, Harry had told him, and it had won them the war.

 _Seems like a good reason to be invited over for Christmas_ , Remus thought for a wild second.

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate the pies.”

Andromeda offered him a tight smile, then, and Remus wondered if she was daring him to say anything against her plans. She handed Teddy over with a last kiss to the baby’s forehead, to which Teddy replied by squealing something that sounded a lot like ‘Nan!’

 

* * *

 

 

When Remus arrived home with Teddy – who had begun to cry as soon as they materialised in the kitchen – he did not expect to find Harry there, and much less to see him still in pyjamas. 

Remus had reckoned Harry would be at the Burrow by then, seeing it was almost lunchtime, but he did not mention it. Instead, he comforted Teddy before putting him down in his high chair, unpacking the remaining pies and placing them neatly on the counter next.

“How was your date last night?” Harry asked eventually, sipping tea from a large orange mug. It had a faded Chudley Cannons logo on it, and Remus wondered where it could possibly have come from. He had never been into Quidditch, and Dora had been a Harpies fan.

“Wasn’t really a date,” he replied, sounding more defensive than he would have wanted to. Harry’s tone had not been accusatory, and his attention did not seem entirely focused on the conversation, either. 

Still, Remus waited for him to continue while he rummaged the freezer part of the refrigerator in search of something for them to eat, as it seemed that Harry was not really going anywhere. 

All they had was frozen lasagne, which had seemed fine enough for Remus to eat alone when he had thought about it earlier, but now felt extremely disappointing for a holiday meal.

 Out of options, then, Remus thawed it with a flick of his wand, hoping his charmwork would get it just ready enough to go in the oven and finish cooking. Kitchen spells were _not_ his specialty, but ordering takeaway on Christmas sounded sadder than what they were up to.

“It’s just… Gin and I are not really dating, either. Not anymore.” Harry told Remus, eyes on Teddy and his musical octopus (every tentacle had a differently coloured symbol on it; when pressed, the buttons made the octopus sing the colours’ names in English, French and Mermish, even though colours did not translate to Mermish very well) Harry had summoned from the sitting room.

“She’s been at Hogwarts with Luna, and they have… uh. Bonded? And… I’m not really sure of where I fit in there. In her life and all.” 

Remus was not proud to admit he was curious, but he opted to let Harry continue, busying himself with setting the table for them, as well as grabbing a tea mug for himself. He had noticed Ginny’s absence on the times Hermione and Ron had come by to play games and deal with the furniture, but it was the first time Harry had addressed it.

 “And well, I’ve been talking to someone too,” he continued.

Remus noticed how his tone changed, then, as well as the way Harry had blushed and shifted in his chair to try and hide it. 

“I didn’t know… you could like. Talk to, uh. A friend like that?” 

Harry paused. 

“He’s not my friend, though. Maybe not _yet_?”

Remus caught himself holding back a laugh, then. _Cute_ was a word that came to mind, but he didn’t think Harry would appreciate it.  

“Well, _Sirius_ was my friend,” he decided to go with, then, ignoring the way it brought a tightness to his chest, to say Sirius’ name in such a casual way.

Harry seemed confused, though, so Remus went on.

 “We started _talking_ in year six.” 

It took a moment, but Harry’s eyes went wide, and he dropped Teddy’s stuffie on the floor. Instead of using his wand to retrieve it, Remus let Harry take his time to pick it back up, allowing him to process Remus’ words.

“And then when we finished school I went to live with him. Your parents had to go into hiding in Godric’s Hollow, and we stayed here in London,” he told Harry once he had reemerged from under the table. 

It felt strange, to tell Harry this story in such a light tone, as they waited for their Christmas _lasagne_ to cook. It would have been unimaginable, that he would one day sit across from Harry in the kitchen of his flat in Bloomsbury, listening to Harry talk about a boycrush while he played with Remus’ _son_. His future had looked so different back then, he thought, _Accio_ ’ing the kettle so he could finally fill his mug with water. 

“We had a place in Diagon Alley. It was pretty neat, really. Bloody expensive too, but Sirius was a prat. He insisted on paying for it with his uncle Alphard’s money,” Remus smiled, pouring the scalding water over his teabag. 

He lifted the mug to his nose and let the aroma of Earl Grey fill his senses for a moment. The steam made a great excuse to rub at his eyes and stay silent for a beat.

“And then… he went to prison?” 

“And then the war got worse,” Remus breathed out. “We… had always had some problems with communication, I reckon. I was off with the werewolf packs and he had his own classified missions, so we never knew where the other was.”

He took a sip from his tea, regretting it immediately when it burnt his tongue. Harry pressed on the blue tentacle of Teddy’s octopus, and a sweet, magical voice filled the kitchen. Blue. Bleu. A sharp, hissing sound.

“We both thought the other was the spy.”

“Oh,” Harry frowned. Teddy squeezed another leg of his toy with strong, chubby fingers. Red. Rouge. A choked noise.

“I had thought I was right until that night in the Shack,” Remus blinked at his mug, decidedly not drinking from it until his tea became cooler.

“You did… uhm. Stare at him for a long time that night,” Harry suggested.

“I might have, yeah.” 

It was Remus’ turn to blush, hopefully in a less obvious way than Harry had before. 

“And then… when we told you we’d saved his soul…” 

“Yeah.”

Yellow. Jaune. A guttural grunt _._

Remus and Harry were silent for a minute, as Teddy kept on playing. This time, Remus did summon the toy back up when it inevitably fell on the floor, taking his time to hold it in the air, making all the octopus’s tentacles jiggle so he could see Teddy reach for them. His little laugh never failed to warm up Remus’ chest, as if it was able to seal the cracks that seemed to be letting the cold in.

“We thought giving you a joint Christmas present would give it away, back in ‘95,” Remus finally told Harry, lowering the stuffie a couple of centimetres so Teddy would be finally able to grab it. He held it close to his torso and squeezed, making several sounds at once.

“I assumed you had bought it for him, since he couldn’t leave the house.” 

“We never told anyone, but I sneaked him out of the house right before Christmas that year. I stole some Polyjuice from a mission.” Remus laughed, pleased by the fact that Harry looked impressed.

“And then we got him to look like some muggle bloke. We shopped for your books together.” 

Harry’s expression went from amused to something Remus couldn’t read. Taking it as a cue to go check on their food, Remus stood up and turned to peer into the oven.

“We thought… that Tonks was in love with him,” he heard Harry say from where he was sitting by the table.

Remus’ stomach flipped at the sound of her name. 

“Because her hair wouldn’t morph and… she looked all messed up. But then you two got together and… no one had seen it coming.”  

“I loved her,” Remus breathed out.

He looked around for an oven glove, just to find them hanging neatly beside the cooker, exactly where they should be.

Their lasagne seemed ready; the cheese had melted nicely, it smelt good. 

“And Teddy is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Remus continued, placing the hot dish over a folded tea towel.

At the sound of his name, Teddy perked up. Remus smiled at him proudly.

“But Sirius was… fuck, Sirius. Sirius was Sirius,” he finished, his laugh ringing a tad uncomfortable even to his own ears.

Harry did not seem to mind him swearing, though, and neither did Teddy repeat it. It encouraged Remus to keep on speaking, even if his eyes were down on the food, which was proving hard to serve. Half of the meat sauce had dripped out when Remus tried to do it with the spatula, and it made both him and Harry chuckle.

“I know that… the thing with Charlie doesn’t look too good,” he said, abandoning the spatula and wandlessly summoning a soup ladle from the cupboard. It did not make the job much easier. “But we’re friends. No innuendo here. We both… know what this is.” 

Harry did not seem convinced when he shifted to look at Remus, who was offering him the first plate.

“Are you happy, then?” Harry asked.

Remus was caught by surprise, sure that the small shrug of his shoulders he managed to offer was not the best answer he could have given Harry, but unable to communicate anything else. It was a bit of an unfair question, he thought, serving himself a portion of food after he had gotten up to fetch Teddy’s bottle of Infant Nourishing Potion. 

Luckily enough, Harry didn’t press him further and they fell into a comfortable silence.

“I wish we could’ve done this with Sirius,” he did say a while later, when they were halfway through their meal.

Remus could not tell exactly what ‘this’ was, though he had an idea. Looking around the kitchen, from the baby’s high chair to the unwashed mugs in the sink and the snow that had just started falling outside (earlier than expected), he felt Sirius’ presence around them in a different way than he had before. Sirius felt _closer_ , though it was difficult to explain. It still hurt – Remus had a feeling that it always would – but thinking of him that morning had not been nearly as gut-wrenching as it had in the past.

“Yeah. Me too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once more, thank you for all the love you guys keep leaving on this fic!
> 
> this is the most i've ever written of harry and i'm in love with him already. i can barely wait for next week's chapter, and i think it's getting pretty clear why? hah! i don't want to spoil it, but big things are coming! 
> 
> can you guess who harry's _friend_ is? you can always come talk to me about it on [tumblr](https://letsdothepanic.tumblr.com) if you'd like!
> 
> see you next week 💖


	7. 31 January, 1999

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a couple of days late, but here it is!
> 
> thank you for the hype over the last week (and since the beginning!) & the beta, [jenn](http://jennandblitz.tumblr.com), you amazing human, you! ily <3
> 
> oh, things get explicit in this chapter, btw!

The _yakisoba_ from the Chinese place at the end of his street really had gotten better after they had changed their noodle supplier, Remus thought, determined to catch the last bits of cabbage from the bottom of the carton with his chopsticks. He had recently befriended the old lady who owned the restaurant – a witch who had gotten used to living practically without magic after marrying a muggle – and she had gone on and on about it, hours before. Remus had not intended to stay out for long; Andromeda had Teddy for the night and he had plenty of work to do, what with the new term in Hogwarts having begun and the Defence syllabus still needing adjustments, but he had been charmed by the way Mrs. Huang talked about how she missed growing her own vegetables and raising chickens.

It had been past six when Remus had finally made his way home, food under a preserving charm so it would stay warm for longer. Still stalling (though he would never admit it), Remus had meticulously set out all of his papers on the beautiful rosewood desk that had come from Grimmauld Place, which now overlooked the main window in his sitting room.

There was seemingly nothing special about the night sky, or at least nothing that could be seen from where Remus was located. Under the abundant, thick clouds, the _second_ full moon of January 1999 should be passing through Earth’s penumbral shadow, without ever entering the darker, umbral shadow. It would be the first eclipse of the year.

It had been weighing on Remus all month, the notion that werewolves everywhere would be turning _again_ on that night; a sudden but not unexpected sense of guilt making the noodles feel heavy in his stomach. He knew there was no reason to feel that way, objectively; that research was still being made to make the ‘curing’ ritual he had gone through available to more people, and to make sure that the ever-so crooked wizarding politics would not get in the way of letting it happen. 

Remus and Hermione had talked about politics when she came by, a few weeks prior. She had come there once with the pretence of seeing Teddy, and another couple of times without an excuse. They had talked about her and Marina Santos’ work, and about Hermione’s parents, as well. She had told him she felt _disconnected_ , like things had never gone back to being the same after the war. 

While Remus had not had the words to tell her exactly how much he sympathised with her feelings of being misunderstood by his family, he had still told Hermione she could always come by and talk to him. It had been sort of a sentimental moment, in spite of the background noise of Teddy’s magical xylophone, and Remus had feared he had pushed her too hard, by saying that he _wanted_ to listen to her. He had hoped it hadn’t sounded out of place, for him to say those things – panicking slightly at the idea that he might have come off _flirtatious_ , or something along those lines – but Hermione had not given any indication of having understood it that way. 

It had taken Remus another of her visits, though, to be convinced fully that he had not screwed things up; only when she came by again, with Magical Law books and scrolls of parchment filled with Werewolf Regiment rulings Remus was finally able to relax. Their friendship remained as it was, and she still felt comfortable to share. 

Remus was not surprised to feel proud of her, he realised, popping a last slice of sauce-covered carrot into his mouth. It was the same pride he felt when Teddy filled all the slots in his magical cube with the correctly shaped blocks, after all. 

That night, the cube lay silent and bubble-free in Teddy’s playpen. Andromeda was spending the evening with her sister, she had told him, and Remus had not known what to say. Andromeda deserved having her sister back, he thought, even though they had been estranged for longer than the duration of the last war, and the idea had not been Andromeda’s in the first place.  Remus did not know Narcissa Malfoy personally, but he had duelled Lucius in the past; he had seen the man throw Unforgivables around like they meant nothing, and for a moment he feared Andromeda might change for the worse, instead of Narcissa changing for the better. 

With a lurch of his stomach, Remus imagined Teddy chasing after the albino peacocks he had seen in Malfoy Manor’s front lawn (that being the closest he had ever gotten of the house, out on Order missions). The visual made him feel like the war had happened eons ago, like all sorts of horrible things had been forgiven and forgotten about, and Remus didn’t know what to do with it. His whole sense of time seemed bent. 

He missed Teddy. The flat felt too silent without him, and Remus stood up to turn on the TV, or the stereo. He had just bought it, with his first payment from Hogwarts. It had been a very generous payment, and Remus had considered going back to Kingsley’s office to tell him he didn’t want Dora’s pension again. Instead, he had transferred Dora’s Gringotts vault to Teddy’s name, with Bill’s help.

Bill had questioned him about Charlie –  friendly and curious – and Remus had told him that now that Charlie had gone back to Romania (since the holidays were over), they had talked and decided to remain just friends. Remus knew very well that he would not have been ready for anything else, anyway. Whiskey, sex and the occasional naked breakfast were fine, but he was not ready to open his heart to someone new. 

He did not think he would _ever_ be, and the thought was scary.

Remus’ mind drifted to Dora, his eyes still on the blank television set. He hadn’t felt ready to love anyone else by then, either. Sirius was dead and he thought his own life would end, as well. It wasn’t fair, to love Sirius still, he used to think. But then Dora happened; she was there for him and she would bring out the best in him. With her, Remus hadn’t felt like a lost man, like a creature of loss and grief. With her he felt like there was a future, like the war was worth fighting and, even though he knew it wasn’t fair to _her_ , that she had not been his first choice, he had chosen to accept her love and do with it the best he could. 

Remus didn’t feel guilty for having loved her. He didn’t feel guilty for letting her love him, or for having had Teddy. Not anymore, at least.

Suddenly very aware of the silence around him, Remus finally tried to turn on the TV. 

The remote would not work, though, and so he leant foward to press the Power button manually. Remus could feel the usual magic in the flat – the wards against strangers, the protection charms he and Dora had set up, the heating spells that kept the cold away – but there was also something else there, like wind getting inside through invisible cracks around the windows, in the wooden panels that surrounded the foggy glass, currently opaque with condensation.

“Hey, old man,” Sirius’ voice called from somewhere behind his back.

Remus did not turn around.

A beat later, the strange atmosphere around him seemed to shift. The television finally sprung to life, the hiss of static startling him. Remus felt goose-flesh rise on his arms, the hair there standing like the Wolf’s fur would have, in the face of danger or unknown magic.

“I know you’re not here,” he whispered. 

Remus felt like an idiot, saying the words to his own sock-clad feet. 

“I am, though,” Sirius’ voice insisted.

There was a decision to be made, and so Remus bargained mentally: he would turn around and look, and that would be enough to prove that he was not insane. That there was nothing wrong with him anymore. He had freed the wolf; he should be free of spirits now.

And so he turned around.

Sirius _was_ there. A Sirius he had never seen before, even though he would recognise him anywhere. Sirius looked thin alright, but the hollowness that had seemed to adhere to his cheeks permanently after prison wasn’t there. Sirius’ hair looked shiny and well-groomed, like he would wear in school, but longer. Remus liked this version of him, and he wondered if this was the way he had always _wanted_ to see him. 

Sirius looked _healed_ , he thought, like he had lived all thirty-nine years he was supposed to have lived in happiness, instead of sorrow. Like Azkaban had never happened, like the war – _both_ of them – had never happened. 

Sirius looked _whole_ , Remus thought, and forbade himself from crying because that would cross a line. Crying over a figment of his own imagination would make the situation much worse.

The smile Sirius sported took his breath away, though not figuratively. Remus felt like he had forgotten how to breathe, and all he remembered was Sirius’ smile. Remus had reconstructed that smile in his mind too many times, after all, afraid he would forget it. He had committed it to memory; the sharpness of Sirius’ canines and the charming angle one of them was crooked at. They were there, and so were Sirius’ thin lips and a healthy dose of stubble over his jaw and cheeks. Like he hadn’t bothered to shave in a couple of days; like they had been too busy rolling around in bed and wanking each other off and eating chocolate-covered biscuits for every meal, and shaving had seemed irrelevant.

With his insides twisting into knots, Remus looked at the man (?!) in front of him, narrowed his eyes and searched for a tell. Magical apparitions always had a tell– he had read about it, thought about it, tested his theory in the field. Mind-altering magic would always leave a trace; reality was not always easy to emulate, especially not one that had never come to fruition. Remus felt the acid rise from his stomach, burning his throat as he quickly went through a dozen of known spells that might cause hallucinations like this one: visual and auditory and _olfactory,_ he thought in a panic. 

 _Jesus Fucking Christ_ , he swore when the vision of Sirius stepped forward. Remus could _smell_ him now – the leather of his jacket, the clove cigarettes he used to smoke in secret and the potions he used to style his hair with. 

“I’ve _lost_ it, haven’t I?” he told the apparition, smiling sadly at it. 

 _That is it_ , Remus thought. The cure had been too good of an idea from the beginning, and he should have known it would have adverse effects sooner or later. _Or maybe I’ve just angered the Ancient Gods somehow,_ he considered with a choked, humourless laugh, _and they’re taking out their revenge on me_. The cure had been too good to be real, as had everything that had happened lately: Teddy getting stronger, working on the DADA syllabus, going out and seeing people again. He might have been cured, but it had cost him his sanity, he knew it now.

“No, Remus. I _found_ you,” the image of Sirius told him, still smiling fondly, as if _he_ was the one who could barely believe what was happening.

“I– I don’t understand.” Remus shook his head, taking a step away. 

“Moony. Or– the spirit of the Wolf. They came to me– to where I was, behind the veil.”

Remus stared.

“The alignment of the moon and the Earth was just right tonight; it’s a rare eclipse, the one we’re having. Did you know that?”

Remus obviously knew about it; knew there was a rare penumbral eclipse, one that only happened once every hundreds of years. He knew of the power in rare magical alignments, such as an eclipse and a Blue Moon on the same night. He could feel the magic practically crackle around them, feel the air shift even with all windows around them shut. There was an unnatural sort of shimmer to the air and, for a moment, the night sky he could see outside the window turned colourful, like on the night he had spent in the desert, months ago. 

Remus felt the presence of the Wolf again, and suddenly the night sky was reflected in Sirius’s eyes– not the violets and blues of the Patagonian desert, but the grey of London’s sky on a January evening. 

When Sirius reached to touch him, Remus had already decided to believe him. 

When Sirius’ long, bony fingers closed around Remus’ wrist, all he could do was look at them, a shaky breath falling from his lips. Whether it was Ancient magic he couldn’t comprehend, a punishment from the Gods or a present he did not deserve, Remus would take it. It wasn’t even a question anymore. 

“Sirius,” he rasped, his voice thick with a series of emotions he could not explain.

Remus’ hand was tentative when he brought it to Sirius’ cheek, his fingertips shaking when he grazed the man’s skin. Sirius felt warm to the touch, and even without the Wolf’s heightened senses Remus felt aware of the blood running in his veins, the _life_ in him. 

“May I kiss you? I’ve been waiting for so long,” Sirius asked, and his voice alone was enough to light up _something_ inside Remus, something that Remus did not know how to name. 

He responded by pulling Sirius to himself, then, by grabbing the lapels of his jacket and closing the distance between them. 

This was not like any of the kisses they had shared before. Maybe _that_ was the tell– maybe it was a sign that there was something off-kilter, Remus thought, and quickly silenced the part of his brain that remained skeptic. Sirius felt so solid beneath his fingers, he told himself. Remus’ lips moved against Sirius’ with passion and a hint of despair. Their teeth knocked together as Remus kept both hands on Sirius’ face and kissed him over and over again. 

“Can’t believe you’ve _unlearnt_ how to do this,” Sirius teased him– _teased_ him _,_ Remus thought in awe and delight. 

Sirius ran his fingers through Remus’ hair, seemingly trying to slow him down, and he leant into it, closed his eyes and exhaled.

Once Remus was calmer, it was Sirius’ turn to lean in, touching his lips to Remus’ gently, caressing his nose with his own. Sirius kissed him not like a man starved, but as one would taste a dessert they had not been allowed for too long of a time. Sirius’ movements were slow and deliberate, to the tilt of his head to the way his hand made its way down Remus’ back, gently bringing him impossibly closer. 

When their tongues finally touched, Remus couldn’t hold back a gasp. He felt it throughout his whole body, like a bolt of magical energy being shared. His whole being felt ready for it, like it had been waiting for _this_ moment, exactly. 

Remus backed away just in time to see how satisfied Sirius looked by his reaction, and the nip Remus received to his lower lip in response was enough to make his toes curl. 

“Take me to bed,” Sirius whispered against their kiss, the tips of his long, long fingers sneaking into the back of Remus’ pyjama trousers. 

Remus was half-way to hard already just from their kissing, his head light. It was a surprise to see he could still lift Sirius off the floor, urging him to wrap his legs around his torso – even without the werewolf strength he supposedly used to possess, or how thin Sirius had been after Azkaban. Remus felt giddy with it; powerful.

They kissed all the way to his bedroom, Remus’ blunt fingernails digging into Sirius’ thighs, over the thick denim trousers he wore. Remus knew those, knew they were the ones he had been wearing in the Department of Mysteries. He recognised Sirius’ boots that now dug into the small of his back, the sound his leather jacket made as Sirius clung tighter to him, his arms moving. 

“Come back to me,” Sirius’ raspy baritone urged him, and only then Remus realised his lips had been limp against Sirius’ own for too long. “I’m here. I found you,” he repeated. 

Remus responded to it by letting go, by placing Sirius on his back, laying him on Remus’ unmade bed with more care than he would have used in the past. He took a moment to look at the man there, then, at the sharpness of his contours against the white of the sheets. Remus barely had time to blink before Sirius removed his own jacket, pulling the thin shirt he’d had underneath over his head in the sequence. 

Sirius’ body was positively entrancing. Remus relished the sight of his lightly toned abdomen, and barely had time to feel self conscious about the recently acquired softness of his own belly as his hands worked automatically on his own clothes. A heartbeat later and he was rid of his pyjamas and underpants, free of his shirt and dress robe and socks. 

When he finally leant down to touch him, Sirius’ skin felt hot under his palms. The hair on his thighs was soft, and the hair on his chest tasted faintly of salt. Sirius smelt _alive–_ of musk and sweat and cloves and of the precome Remus could feel coat his fingers when he stroked him. With the atmosphere still buzzing around them, Remus was back to kissing Sirius, tongue back in his mouth, lips back on his lips. 

This time there were no complaints, he thought as he nipped on Sirius’ bottom lip, on his jaw and his earlobe. 

“ _Remus_ ,” Sirius moaned, canting his hips, pushing his hard cock into the ring of Remus’ flexed fingers. “Fuck me already, will you?” he urged him, and Remus could not stop himself from choking out a laugh, finally moving his mouth from the nipple he had been sucking on. 

Unable or unwilling to form words, he responded by flattening his tongue and laving Sirius’ hard nub with it; for his own benefit, mostly. Even that small of a touch felt grand– Sirius’ impossibly hot skin, the warmth of it against his tongue sending a shiver down Remus’ spine. Sirius groaned lowly, this time, and Remus watched as his glistening cockhead pushed through the foreskin, caught on Remus’ fist. 

Sirius’ dick cried a dollop of precome, and Remus smeared it all over his shaft. 

“ _Remus_ ,” Sirius groaned once more, and Remus took pity on him. 

After summoning his wand into an open palm, Remus cast a generous lubrication charm. He could have done it wandlessly, but he wanted to make sure he would get it right, wanted to make sure it would be enough to go on it alone. It had been something they had learnt together, a handy _Lubrico_ charm, the first one they had both mastered casting in silence. It had been a _bonding_ experience, Remus remembered fondly, coating his own erection on the warm substance. Trying to teach Sirius to cast the spell without his wand and the fumbling touches that followed had been _everything_ , he thought, casting it again and making sure to get Sirius properly wet.

It had been too long since Remus had used this spell, and he wanted to make sure he would get it right. 

“That’s– _Ah_ ,” Sirius breathed out when Remus breached him. He had crossed his ankles behind Remus’ back, and the angle did not feel quite right, but Remus needed a moment– needed a minute to tell himself not to come, not to let this end too soon. 

Sirius was too tight, and Remus slipped out of his body with a breathy chuckle of his own. 

“No prep charm, just fuck me,” Sirius insisted, when Remus made to go for his wand.

Remus’ demeanour changed from playful to determined in a beat. He tugged at Sirius’ legs then, pulled him closer to his body and lifted his hips off the bed. He hooked one of Sirius’ ankles over his shoulder, kissing the bones there, first of all. Sirius wriggled his toes, and they tickled the side of Remus’ face, his beard, and Remus resisted the odd urge to bite at his foot. 

He had a job to do, after all– and the mere contemplation of it made him shiver. With the change of angle, Remus was able to sink his cock deep into Sirius’ arsehole on his first try, earning himself a low, filthy moan. 

There was no time to ponder if he was hurting him; Sirius had pulled Remus in by the neck, and he did not seem fazed by being bent almost in half. In fact, his moans only seemed to grow more desperate, and Remus did not hesitate in giving him what he wanted. 

With a handful of thrusts, Remus made it all the way inside, taking a moment to feel Sirius pulse around him before fucking him in earnest. 

He was barely able to register that the low, guttural grunts that echoed in the bedroom were his own. His senses were all lost in the way Sirius felt– beneath him, on him, _around_ him. His lungs were full of Sirius’ scent, his tongue chasing Sirius’ taste, his lips seeking Sirius’ skin. 

Remus felt shame for the ridiculous thoughts that assaulted him – of how much he had missed him, of how lost he had been without him, or how much he had always loved him – and gritted his teeth against voicing them out loud, lest this all be a trick. Having Sirius pant underneath him, having his dick leak against Remus’ stomach, having him gasp Remus’ name as his arse clenched around him was like coming the fuck home after _years_ out in a storm, and Remus was terrified by that notion. 

But after Sirius had sunk his nails into his back – after his whole body had arched away from the mattress and onto Remus, muscles spasming in rapture – it became too hard to keep control, too hard to keep on postponing the inevitable. Remus could feel all of his nerve ends alight, the magical shimmer back in the air when he finally opened his eyes. He had not realised he had been keeping them shut so tight, had not realised his jaw had been set for so long. It physically _ached_ to stall much longer, electrical pulses of pleasure making his toes twitch. 

And so he let _go –_ Remus clung to Sirius the best he could, and let the fear of him disappearing as soon as it was all over be overthrown by his climax. 

“ _Aah,”_ he cried out, and the sound rang around the room.

Remus kept on grunting, kept on holding onto Sirius as the white-hot waves made his mind blank; rutted into Sirius as he kept on coming, emptying himself inside him. 

When he finally came back, Remus’ cheeks felt wet, but he could not tell why. He was afraid to open his eyes, even though Sirius still felt solid underneath him; the tip of his softening cock still buried inside him. 

Remus was as afraid of having Sirius still be there as he was afraid of losing him again. 

“You can go to sleep, love. I found you.”

Sirius’ voice was smooth and clear, and Remus felt his chest heave, felt a sob stuck in his throat. It was hard to breathe with his face pressed into Sirius’ neck, but Remus was terrified of moving away. 

“ _I found you_ ” was the last thing he heard before drifting off, seemingly hours later, with Sirius’ bony fingers running through his hair. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay, sirius is back! ~~or is he?~~
> 
> [le’s](http://candybarrnerd.tumblr.com) beautiful [wlw big bang](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HPWLWBB2019/works/19265131) fic had me thinking about hermione this week, and i have them to thank for the remus&hermione inspo! the amazing characterisation in their fic made me want to delve into hermione more and more, and i hope i did their inspiration justice!
> 
> on another note, i've had the ending of this chapter in my mind for months, and now it's here. i had a great time writing it, and i hope you'll all like it. <3
> 
> as always, a million thanks for all the love! let me know what you think of this update here or on [tumblr](http://letsdothepanic.tumblr.com)!


	8. 1 February, 1999

On that night, Remus dreamt. 

It wasn’t anything particularly frightening; there were no stone walls falling, nor the acrid smell of Unforgivables hitting flesh. No smoke rising around him and no loved ones screaming. No hearing Dora call for him one last time before a flash of green light burnt Remus’ eyes and he fell. 

It was nothing like the dreams he was used to feeling stick to his skin for days after waking up from. 

On those nights, there was nothing that seemed capable of pulling Remus from his mind; nothing like the way he felt tonight, like his sleep was too light in a way. As if his mind was having a hard time clinging to slumber; like it might evade him at any moment.

He was in the Forbidden Forest. Remus couldn’t see himself, though he _knew_ he was there. It was a familiar path through the woods, just off the Shack, nearing Hogsmeade. There was a thick mist around him, but he seemed to know where he was going. There was no way to see the moon, which should be up in the sky by then, and far away from the fog that surrounded him. Still, deep inside Remus knew it would be full, ready to catch up to him. He could feel it in his bones, his blood rushing through his body like waves crashing on the shore, guided by the high tide. His heart was beating incredibly fast, Remus could hear it thumping in his ears. It was a feeling he knew painfully well, the one of waiting for the moon to rise. Of waiting for the moment when the first bone would snap, or the first animalistic howl would rip from his throat. 

Except it never came. 

Remus seemed suspended in that moment; he felt trapped in it. His whole self was ready, was expecting it. It was like being in full alert, waiting for the danger that would come from within – except it wasn’t there. It never came. Remus could feel the pull, but not the Wolf. 

Rather than soothe him, the notion made him panic. 

Remus ran through the woods, then; if anything, to get his blood to flow right again. He ran too fast, his feet off the ground, as if he were flying. It was easy to run like that, easy to dodge the trees when his feet wouldn’t touch the ground.

That was, until he saw a shock of vivid turquoise hair running ahead of him, first the hair and then the boy. 

It couldn’t be, though. Teddy was too small, barely a toddler. He couldn’t _run_. 

The boy Remus saw running was the same height as him, had his same curly hair– but once the silence of the forest was broken, Remus understood. The boy was suddenly running on all fours, howling and crying out, turquoise curls turned into grey, thick fur. 

Remus stopped. He tried calling the boy’s attention, but it was no use. The werewolf had disappeared into the mist, and he was alone there. He could feel himself starting to panic again, listening for his own howl that never came, waiting for the smell of blood that should invade his nostrils any moment now. That’s where the run ended, wasn’t it? When teeth sank into prey, after boys had become beasts?

But then his dream changed. 

His body was still too cold, but he was back in the castle, in the headmaster’s office. It didn’t look the way it did the last time he had been there, with Minerva McGonagall sitting behind the opulent desk, now covered in several dangerous-looking metallic objects. 

 _Dumbledore_ was there, unreadable blue eyes glinting behind his half-moon glasses, holding Remus’ wand just out of his reach. It was broken in half, he noticed, and his eyes filled with tears. Angry, impotent tears, they were. As if Remus knew that day would come, and his traitorous eyes had already accepted there was nothing he could do about it. 

As he blinked the tears away, furiously wiping at them with the back of his hands, Remus looked at the man standing beside Dumbledore. A deceptively fragile-looking old man, in a long midnight blue coat. It was Scamander – Remus recognised his old, lined face from the back cover of his schooldays copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. He remembered staring at the old man’s benevolent face back in those days and asking himself whether Scamander had been right, whether someone so clever and brilliant could have been so wrong about his _kind–_ just to see it confirmed in the man’s expression now. He had no words for Remus; merely looking at him in disgust before drawing five Xs in the air, out of blood-red light that sprung from the tip of the man’s wand. 

Feeling the air leave his lungs way faster than he was able to get it back in, Remus turned to the last figure, choking back an embarrassing sob in hopes of not bearing his weaknesses fully. Not with his _father_ there, already shaking his head in disapproval. Lyall was wearing the same jacket he had worn the first time he had dropped his son at Platform 9 ¾ – Remus remembered the feeling of the soft, worn fabric underneath his fingers when he held his father close to him for an extra minute before being let go of. Lyall’s expression was just as closed off as it had been then, Remus noticed, confirming his suspicions that his father had not wanted him to go to Hogwarts in the first place. That Lyall still feared for others’ safety; that he did not think Remus was fit to be out in the world, putting _humans_ in danger. 

“It’s over,” Remus heard.

The voice did not belong to any of the men before him, though.

It belonged to _Sirius_ , and it seemed to come from outside the room, outside the castle. 

Remus wanted to agree with the statement; he wanted to say he understood it, and that he had not found it in him to fight his destiny. The urge to fight had left his body, left his whole _self_ , once he had lost Teddy in the woods. 

“Remus, it’s over,” he heard again.

Slumber left Remus’ body like a spirit would. 

Sirius’ long hair tickled face as he looked up from where he had been resting on the too-soft pillow. 

“Wake up, love.”

Remus’ heart was beating fast, the anguish from the dream still clinging to his consciousness. He had a sudden urge to go looking for Teddy, a flush of adrenaline choking him up when Remus wasn’t able to hear Teddy’s usual morning crying. 

“Where is he?” He asked brusquely, slipping out from below Sirius, scurrying away from the bed. Remus had no time to feel self-conscious about being naked, or for the dried out spunk on his stomach. 

In what felt like a single second, Remus felt around for his wand and left the bedroom in a hurry, knocking over the picture frame that had been resting on his nightstand. Remus didn’t have any time to hope he hadn’t broken the glass; he didn’t wait around to hear if he had. 

Teddy’s room was empty, and so was Harry’s bed, in the guest room. 

There was someone– someone wearing _Sirius’_ face in his bedroom, and there was no trace of his son. He needed– he needed to–

“You were alone last night, Moony,” the Sirius-looking stranger said, and Remus raised his wand. 

“W-who the fuck are you? What are you doing in my house why–”

 _Why did you let me fuck you? How much Dark magic does it take to impersonate a dead man? Where is my_ **_son–_ ** _?_

The questions died in Remus’ tongue as he clutched his wand tighter and tried to think of a curse, tried to remember a single spell he could use with his heart beating at this wild rate, cold sweat  dripping into his eyes and blurring his vision. 

The stranger didn’t seem to have a wand on him when he entered Teddy’s bedroom though; he didn’t seem ready to attack. 

Remus tried to think of it as an advantage, to use it against the enemy that now stood in front of him– wearing his own pyjama bottoms and the slippers he had gotten from Dora as joke on his last birthday. 

 _Very professorial_ , she had said, offering him the pair of tartan monstrosities.

With a shake of his head, Remus considered he might still be dreaming, and tried to will himself to wake up. 

“I told you last night, Remus. The Wolf’s spirit guided me back,” the man began. 

He had heard this before. Remus knew that much, he had heard those words, had fought himself to believe them, to accept that he might be getting something good. Except now in the morning light, the Sirius in front of him looked much less like the apparition Remus had seen him as the night before. 

Sirius’ hair looked opaque, like he had in fact been sweating the night before. There were shadows under his eyes, pillow creases on his cheeks. This was a human being standing in Teddy’s empty bedroom, and that did not compute. 

“Because of the eclipse,” Remus completed. 

He hated the trembling of his voice, the fear it in. He remembered it, though, remembered the explanation from the night before. The eclipse, the Blue Moon. 

“It’s a spiritual realm, beyond the veil. Apart from this one, but still connected to it. I lost my body when I fell. Lost _you–_ but I was still me, _somewhere._ ” Remus heard the man explain, and he fought the bit of his mind that wanted to call him Sirius. 

With his wand arm still raised, Remus tried to calm down his own breathing, tried to remember how to use magic again. He wondered how the fuck had he been able to survive both bloody wars like _this–_ when just a bit tinge of Dark magic and a Confusion charm were all it took to get him planted to the floor; his brain turned useless.

“Can’t say I was too happy to see you shacking up with my cousin, though,” the man said, punctuating the statement with a snort that reminded Remus of a dog’s snuffle. 

“We were married.”

“Huh?”

“We weren’t shacking up. We were married,” Remus insisted. He had no clue of where this was coming from; this need to defend himself with an argument he had never once used before. 

 _I won’t have you be my widow_ , he once again remembered telling Dora. _That’s not who we are._

“We have a son,” Remus finished, finally gaining back the feeling on his fingertips.

 _Teddy’s with his gran,_ he remembered, the realisation cutting through the fog in his mind with a razor-sharp edge. 

“He’s got cool hair.” Not-Sirius shrugged. 

As the absurdity of the scene began to sink in, almost as if pouring in through the cut in the mist; Remus felt impossibly _vulnerable_.

“Listen,” his voice trembled, and Remus felt the same type of tears fill his eyes as the ones from his dream. Tears of anger and frustration began to well up, and his head that was already too-heavy threatened to burst. “You should leave now,” he asked, very politely. 

It felt like the equivalent of rolling over and showing his throat; like an admission that he had lost. 

Still, better to be rid of the stranger before Andromeda came, before she brought _Teddy_ back– his brain supplied, and Remus knew at that moment that he would submit again and again if it meant that Teddy wouldn’t get hurt. 

“It’s time for you to go,” he insisted, cold sweat dripping from the hair on the back of his neck. 

“I can’t– Remus I can’t go back to where I was. I came here for you; came _to_ you. _Last night–_ “ 

“Please.”

Remus didn’t trust his senses at that point, but he could have sworn those were Andromeda’s heeled boots he could hear, echoing on the stairs outside the flat. She would have taken the Knight Bus; she didn’t Apparate with the baby and had scolded him many a time for doing so himself. 

If she reached the door, if she _knocked–_ Remus wouldn’t know what to do. He couldn’t protect the three of them, wouldn’t forgive himself if anything happened. Begging was the only resort he had left. 

“ _Please_ ,” he repeated, in a strangled syllable. 

Remus watched the man’s mouth open and close, then, silently; watched his brows knit together and his jaw twitch. 

As Andromeda’s finger pressed the doorbell outside, he disappeared with a faint _pop_. 

Gone were Remus’ pyjama bottoms and slippers.

 

* * *

 

An hour or six later, Remus had Teddy asleep on top of him as they both lay on the sofa. He had not had the courage to step back into his own bedroom yet. Remus needed to change his sheets, but all energy he’d had left had been spent telling Andromeda that he had not been drinking and that there had not been anyone else in the flat. 

Remus prayed she had not smelt the sex on him; prayed the dressing robe he had pulled on in a hurry had not let any evidence show. The last thing he needed was to be caught in such a sordid lie. 

The tap on the window startled him, the sharp sound causing his heart to jump. 

 _“YOU WONT BELIEVE WHO JUST SHOWED UP HERE,”_ Harry’s messy scrawl said on the letter Pigwidgeon had just dropped onto Remus’ lap. 

“ _REMUS ITS SIRIUS. HES ALIVE LOOKING FINE AND CRACKING JOKES_ ,” he continued, and Remus tried to be mad at Harry’s disregard for punctuation. He did not have it in him, though. 

“ _WELL TALK TO YOU LATER, LOVE HARRY_.”

As he stared at his own bare feet, Remus missed his slippers immensely; the pain and longing lodged right below his left side’s ribs. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a great big thanks to the amazing [jenn](https://www.jennandblitz.tumblr.com) for the beta work and all the support!
> 
> and thank _you_ for not giving up on this story – i certainly haven’t! 💖
> 
> come talk to me about it on [tumblr](https://www.letsdothepanic.tumblr.com) any time!


	9. Early March, 1999

Remus Lupin turned 39 on a Wednesday. 

It was a dull, pale morning, with the sunlight that streamed through the kitchen window barely allowing Remus to read the label on the packet of tea he’d been trying to find out was caffeinated or not. 

Despite it being March already, the days still felt just as short as they had back in December, Remus thought, waving a hand to summon his wand and then get the lights on. There weren’t enough clouds to hide the sad, grey-diluted-blue of the morning sky. Yet there was a pitter-patter of rain, providing background noise for Remus as he moved around the room, put the kettle on and waited for the tea water to boil.

Navigating life the muggle way was, if not easier, thankfully inefficient when Remus had things he would rather not be thinking of; which had come in handy during the last _remarkably uneventful_ five weeks or so. After Harry’s note and the three days he had taken to reply to it, Remus had seemed to make enough of a statement about Sirius being back; and it wasn’t a _good_ one. 

It had taken him seventy-two hours filled with anxiety-induced leg bouncing and a persistent headache Remus could only compare to being hungover to decide there’d been enough postponing. Remus had always had this stupid, _stupid_ way of making himself sick with inaction until doing the thing he’d been dreading became less bad than fighting the state that procrastinating it would put him in. Only once he’d had enough of feeling the same, stale nausea somewhere between his nose and throat he’d pulled out a pen and parchment to scribble something to Harry.

It _had_ been Sirius there, Remus was sure of it now. It had been Sirius whom Remus had begged to leave his home in a pathetic moment of insanity-inducing vulnerability he wasn’t ready to address for what it really was. He’d made a fool of himself, and continued to do so as he went  through the first days of February in a frenzy, with Teddy bawling and falling asleep, and waking up just to scream again. 

Remus couldn’t help but be assaulted with memories of the last time he’d felt so vulnerable; the last _times_ he’d been suspicious and frightened by Sirius’ comings and goings. They were memories of the first war; of the way Sirius had seemed sure he wouldn’t live to see the next year come that crept into his mind every time Remus took a second too long between tasks. Remus would remember talking to Sirius then, would remember being perched on a windowsill as they smoked clove cigarettes none of them had bought and wonder what would happen to them the next day.

On the morning of his thirty-ninth birthday, Remus missed smoking something terrible. He had quit years ago, but this morning he missed the weightless, rounded shape of the cigarette between his fore and middle fingers. He missed touching his lips to the filter and inhaling, missed blowing out smoke and watching it dissolve into the air, and missed the tart, bitter taste of it on Sirius’ tongue.

As his water boiled and the light went off on the kettle, Remus decided to take a gamble on the tea. The ritual of setting the egg timer to make sure he’d steep it for an exact four and a half minutes was comforting, though not much so. His feet were still cold, and the edge of the counter hard against the hip he had leaning on it. Guilt nibbled on his stomach as he thought that, if Teddy were to wake up crying right now, at least there’d be something to break the oppressive silence that reigned in the flat.

“ _Fuck.”_

A brown, mean-looking owl tapped the kitchen window, startling Remus before the egg timer could.

With a frown and a brief thought to the imminent oversteeping of his tea, Remus moved to let the bird in, and then to relieve it from the parcel it’d been carrying.

A _birthday present_ , he thought, a tad stupidly. The owl didn’t wait around to see if he had anything for it to eat, and soon flew off into the grainy outside. 

The box it dropped on the kitchen table and over his eggs was wrapped in butcher paper, held together by regular sellotape. Surprised by the muggle fixtures, Remus pulled his wand to check it for hexes, cursing himself for the overzeal and paranoia. As it turned out, it was just a box.

A _shoe_ box, to be precise, from a posh muggle store he’d only heard about. It contained a pair of soft, navy-blue slippers, of a much higher quality than the ones Sirius had been wearing when he Disapparated from Remus’ living room on the night of the eclipse. _Touché._

It was Harry’s untidy scrawl that Remus found on the note that accompanied the gift, though.

_Happy birthday, Remus. Sorry I haven’t been around as much lately but things have been chaos around here. Hope I’ll see you at the Burrow on Sunday. Have a great day. Love, Harry._

 

* * *

Remus had been dodging lunch at the Burrow for over a month, but Molly wouldn’t hear a no this time, not when she knew it had been his birthday the week before. 

Not usually one to enjoy being the center of attention, and not excited to run into Sirius again so soon, Remus had reluctantly made his way to Ottery St. Catchpole by Floo.

Teddy was _finally_ getting used to magical travelling, it seemed, Remus thought as they stepped out of the hearth without any of Teddy’s breakfast immediately ending up on his jumper. Despite the frequent bouts of night crying, Teddy had been much better humoured. He was a smart kid, always curious and aware of his surroundings. Remus’ worries about him missing Dora, or just not growing enough for some mysterious reason had died down as he watched his son grow, and his metamorph abilities become more prominent. He was now capable of changing his hair colour to match things around him, like furniture and décor. It was adorable, though a bit funny, how he’d adapt to the room around him like a little human chameleon wrapped in a furry bear onesie. 

It did make going out on the muggle world tricky, though, since there was no way Remus could explain to a drugstore full of people how his son’s hair had gone from the cornflower blue in the Aspirin advert to the same yellow of the vitamin bottles on the counter, and so Remus had to resort to magical shopping for the time being. 

Surprisingly enough, the people at Diagon Alley didn’t seem put off by having him around as they used to. It had been hard after he’d been fired from Hogwarts and his secret had been revealed to even go get potions at the Apothecary. The looks Remus would receive while waiting to be rung up were enough to discourage him from frequenting the family friendly establishments at Diagon, while the ones at Knockturn had been crawling with Death Eaters and people working for Voldemort, openly or not. 

It had been a miserable time to be around British wizarding society, and more than once Remus had caught himself wondering if he should just _bail;_ leave and go live in South America, like Sirius had done briefly after escaping Azkaban. Those hadn’t been the best of times for them, but they also hadn’t been the worst. Producing illegal Portkeys had been a fun (if dangerous) hobby, but still it had reminded Remus of distant nights in the Gryffindor common room when he, Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail would gather around ancient magical books and try to find loopholes around Hogwarts magic that kept the castle from being mapped. 

They could be happy down South, Remus used to think. They could leave the war behind; he could find a way to leave the horrible sense of _debt_ he felt he owed Dumbledore –– but Sirius would never leave for good. He wouldn’t leave Harry, wouldn’t move away from his godson if he could help it. 

 _I’ve been away for twelve years already, Remus_ , Sirius would mumble or yell, depending on the night. And Remus would swallow down the shame and swallow down the way he’d feel humiliated every time he set foot out of Grimmauld Place and had a faceless wizard spit at his feet and call him a _mutt_. 

There were no more insults being yelled at him now; no more doors closing on his face. Remus had an Order of Merlin First Class plaque with his name on it and a pension from his dead auror wife, and he wasn’t sure which of them had made old witches at the grocers’ feel more sorry for him. 

Maybe it was the green-and-yellow-haired baby strapped to his chest as he picked up mangoes at the store, Remus had reckoned, as one more middle-aged lady asked Teddy where his _mummy_ was for the third time that afternoon. 

“Remus, it’s so great to see you, dear!” Molly exclaimed, pulling him and Teddy into a hug and extracting Remus from the daydream about old ladies and improper questions. 

“You too, Molly. Good to be here,” Remus smiled, not insincerely. 

“We missed you, boys!” She told him, and planted a big kiss on Teddy’s cheek. A pang of something bittersweet made Remus’ face flush with heat, and he hoped Molly wouldn’t be able to tell. “Almost made me think you were hiding out for whatever reason,” she continued, eyeing Remus from behind her newly-cut wispy fringe. It seemed like a modern choice, from what he had seen lately. 

Still, Molly Weasley’s recently acquired fashion sense wasn’t enough to distract him from the fact that she was still able to read him a tad too well, leaving Remus unsettled and a tad a bit embarrassed as he wiped soot from his jumper, awkwardly standing in the over-furnished sitting room. 

“Remus!” Someone called from the direction of the kitchen. 

“Charlie,” he greeted back. 

Charlie looked good today, dressed in a thick knitted jumper that had no business suiting him this well. Remus caught himself flushing again. They hadn’t seen each other since the holidays, and then only changed friendly letters, but the expression on Charlie’s face as he took in Remus and Teddy was fuller of meaning than Remus would’ve anticipated.

Remus had wondered what other people would be thinking at this point, about him and Sirius. It wasn’t news anymore, that Sirius was back. The Prophet had stamped it on its Sunday edition a few weeks ago, with the details of the legal suit that was meant to prove his innocence and offer reparations for the years Sirius had been treated as a criminal for the magical community. 

It also wasn’t news that Sirius and Remus had been together at some point, at least not to Order members. Remus hadn’t known that Harry was oblivious to the situation, but he knew _others_ weren’t. And that included the Weasleys, for sure. 

Suddenly, the Burrow’s sitting room felt too entirely hot. 

“Happy birthday, mate.” Charlie, now close enough to hug him, wrapped a strong arm around Remus’ shoulders. 

It was _good_ contact; safe contact, friendly contact. Even though they certainly weren’t in love with each other, him and Charlie had had some great times together — and Remus felt a quick urge to tell him about that. _Thank you for the great casual sex; it helped me boost my self esteem and also kept me from finishing too early when my alleged soulmate came back from the dead and materialised in my home._

“Thank you,” Remus said, instead, and let Teddy fill in what might’ve been an uncomfortable silence with his cheery babbling and occasional discernible word. There were no sentences to be heard as of yet, but he was already able to communicate little things, such as that he wanted to be put down, and that he’d had enough of being held. 

“Let me take this lad, and then you can make the rounds, yeah? Dad, Ron and Georgie are outside, and Gin is at school,” Charlie offered, conversationally, with a freckled hand still on his bicep. 

“Sure, yeah.” Remus cleared his throat and passed Teddy along, after disentangling him from his coat he’d been grabbing onto. 

“Fleur and Bill are gonna be here any minute,” Charlie continued, having pulled his wand from his sleeve so he could wave it around and make colourful bubbles float from the tip, which Teddy immediately tried to reach for. “And Harry—”

“Harry’s running late,” a familiar raspy baritone called from behind where they were standing. 

Remus thought he was glad for the buffer; though before he could look at her for support, Molly had already escaped the room and slinked back into the kitchen, and Charlie didn’t feel like a buffer _at all_. 

It was almost like astral projecting, Remus reckoned. He could see the scene from where Sirius was now standing: Charlie and his borderline obscene knitted jumper, making bubbles that a curious (and now ginger-haired) Teddy was chasing intently, touching Remus’ arm in a close, intimate way. There had to be _something_ there; Remus was sure that Sirius would be able to tell. Except what there _was_ there was just sex. Just being friends. Just unspoken words about loneliness and grieving, exchanges after wine and spirits and clothes coming off. 

“Daaaa!” Teddy proclaimed, and pulled on Remus’ lapels strongly enough to get his attention. 

“There you go,” Remus cleared his throat again, finally passing Teddy on properly. 

Remus had no clue of what could possibly be going through either man’s’ heads, didn’t know what the fuck to do other to hand his son over and turn to look at Sirius — not a ghost, not an apparition, not a hallucination from the depths of his stupid, lonely brain. 

“Like I said, gonna get the little lad and leave you free to do the rounds,” Charlie repeated with a raise of his eyebrows and another squeeze to Remus’ forearm. 

Once he’d left with Teddy, the little cramped room at the Burrow felt big enough to hold a crowd. Remus was still ashamed, still unsure of what to say — and the expression on Sirius’ handsome face wasn’t helping his situation much. 

“Happy birthday, Moony,” Sirius told him, and there was something off about his smile; something sharp in just the _wrong_ way, something cutting that Remus wasn’t used to seeing used _against_ him _._

Sirius also didn’t walk closer, Remus noted, very aware of how his hands were now empty and he had nothing to fidget with. Sirius remained close to the kitchen door through which he had come in, and Remus noticed that his hair had been cut, the thin silver threads that stood out against the black on his temples. Remus noticed the comfortable looking Converse and the shiny new leather jacket, as well. It wasn’t the jacket he’d left behind at Remus’ flat, since all of those clothing articles were currently folded and lying in one of Remus’ dresser drawers, waiting for him to shake off the need to be a wuss and send them back. 

“Thank you,” Remus replied, wiping suddenly clammy hands on his corduroys. A beat of silence rang between them, the rhythmic crackling of the fire the only thing heard for a second that felt like it’d been dragged on for hours. 

“It’s a cute kid you’ve got,” Sirius gestured with his head towards the door Charlie had disappeared into, his eyebrows elegantly arched; in a way that Remus knew was staged. Sirius’ whole frame seemed taller when he looked down that way, his shoulders broader and lean figure fuller. He was posing, Remus knew. Asserting his distance, firming his voice. 

“Harry told me he’s a metamorph like Tonks.”

There hadn't been any _time_ to introduce them between Sirius showing up and Remus freaking out, after all. There hadn’t been any time for Sirius so see the photographs, for him to hear the story of Remus and Dora — the one Remus had wished he was able to just implant into Andromeda’s memories before, so she would understand them, _validate_ them as a family. 

“He is.”

Remus felt the urge to defend himself, to tell Sirius all about the times he’d mourned him; all the times he’d thought he would be the next one to go just because the idea of existing in a world where he and Sirius got separated _again_ was too much to bear. Remus felt it bubble in his chest: the rise of his voice, the words about how Dora had _saved_ him, the words about how his relationship with her didn’t invalidate his and Sirius’, the way he’d felt guilty and wrong for not being able to forget, even though he had loved her completely. 

“Is he interested in dragons, as well? Or is that you now?” Sirius pursed his lips ever so slightly, the reference as obvious as his blow was low. 

“Charlie and I are friends.” 

“I’d love to hear about all sorts of friendly activities you get up to.” 

Sirius pulled away from the wall. 

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus warned, flexing his fingers, feeling the muscles on his shoulders tense up.

“Are you a quidditch enthusiast now, Moony? I know Charlie is.”

“Quidditch is just fine.”

“Charlie’s better at it than _just fine_ , though. He was captain and all—” 

“Champions of the ‘91 House Cup. Go lions.” Remus suppressed an eye roll, his frown deepening. 

“You sure are acquainted with the class of ‘91, aren’t you, Moony?”

“That’s— that’s not _fair—_ ”

“The world isn’t fair Moony, but I think you would know that.”

It was incredible how Sirius would pull these things to say from the depth of some mental box of how to make Remus feel the worst. Of course the world wasn’t fair; it was something Remus himself had argued many times as they’d gotten into impossible arguments about Sirius being reckless and Remus having too much on the line to let himself go after him. 

“I do know that,” Remus told him, then. Looking into Sirius’ eyes — the blue-grey just before the storm — Remus could see anger and rejection and frustration. They were also much closer than Remus had realised until then; all it had taken was one defiant step closer and Sirius was towering over the couple of centimetres he had on him. 

“Fucking hell, Remus,” Sirius breathed out, then. 

It was a breath alright; Remus felt it on his lips before closing his eyes and backing Sirius against the earth-toned wallpaper. Anyone could’ve walked in from the kitchen, and anyone could’ve come in through the Floo. Now _that_ would be dreadful, Remus thought, and a second later forgot all about it. There was no way he could justify the desperate snog he and Sirius were having at the Weasley’s sitting room, and some part of him knew that maybe people wouldn’t even _want_ him to. 

If what Sirius had told him that night was true, there had been powerful magical forces at play to bring them to this place — people didn’t just _come back from the dead_ , did they? — and that was reason enough to grab Sirius by the collar of his new leather jacket and manoeuvre them both into the nearest room: a small guest toilet just a couple of steps from where they’d stood.

“You didn’t _really_ go through their whole class, did you? Every British witch and wizard born in ‘73? That’s not really your style,” Sirius pushed, but didn’t walk away from Remus when he closed the door of the bathroom behind them. 

“I didn’t, no.”

“Was it a three way thing, then? Did you fuck both of them at the same time?”

It was a sordid mental image, and Remus felt sick to realise it wasn’t really a _bad_ one. It felt _dirty_ to even consider it, some ridiculously moral part of his brain shaming him from fantasising about Dora without her consent.

“Did Tonks fuck both of you, then? We know you like a good buggering, Moony, and she—”

Remus pushed Sirius against the door. With one hand on Sirius’ jacket and the other on his wand, Remus murmured a silencing Charm, just strong enough so that people wouldn’t come looking for them too soon. If they were going to have this conversation, then it needed to happen without anyone else involved. 

“Shut up, Sirius. Just shut _up_ — you don’t know what Dora and I were like because you were _dead._ ” 

The line worked to stop Sirius from talking, at least for a moment. Remus could almost see the millions of comebacks running through Sirius’ head in the second he was quiet. What he didn’t expect, though, was for Sirius to close the now short distance between them, crashing his lips against Remus’ in a breathless, desperate way. 

Remus also didn’t anticipate he’d respond to the touch so eagerly; hands finding Sirius’ neck and hair as his wand fell to the floor with a clatter. 

They kissed like they would have in a broom closet at Hogwarts, or in Grimmauld’s kitchen after Order meetings. There wasn’t enough _air_ to pass between them; there wasn’t finesse or care with teeth and nails. There was Sirius’ thigh finding its way between Remus’ even though Sirius was the one pressed against the door, and there were Sirius’ hands on the back of Remus’ trousers; fingers flexing tight on his arse cheeks so he could keep him in place and _rut._

“ _Fuck—”_ Remus managed to groan, before having his bottom lip forcefully pulled at by Sirius’ teeth. 

This wasn’t like the night at Remus’ flat, with the ethereal light of the eclipse and the dull sound of the telly’s ecstatic in the background. Remus could _hear_ his heartbeat pound in his ears, blood rushing through his body, making his face hot and his underpants tight. 

He was the one to reach for Sirius’ flies. 

“ _Moony—_ ” Sirius cried; jeans open and pants pushed down just enough to let his cock free. He had the decency to look less smug now, and Remus couldn’t bite back the satisfied smirk from successfully taking him down a notch. 

“Don’t talk about shit you know nothing of, _Padfoot.”_ Remus slicked his palm with a grumbled _Lubrico,_  and didn’t care if it dripped and stained Sirius’ trousers. That was _his_ problem now. 

Kissing Sirius before he could go on talking, Remus moved his fist quick and gracelessly, still pressing Sirius against the wall with his own body. It didn’t do much for himself — not with his own erection straining against the front of his trousers, almost painfully trapped behind the zipper and against Sirius’ hip — but this wasn’t about getting off. They were _fighting,_ weren’t they?

“One would think you’d have learnt how to keep your mouth shut by now,” Remus groaned against Sirius’ lips, just quickly enough not to break up their less than gentle kissing. Remus could tell by the weight of Sirius’ cock in his hand and the pulsing of the long shaft as he moved his slick fingers around it that this wouldn’t last much longer. 

Feeling something twist in his stomach — something possessive and ugly and coloured by a lens of longing Remus didn’t want to acknowledge was there — Remus snuck a peek down, to how the swollen crown of Sirius’ cock was rhythmically disappearing between his forefinger and thumb. It made him want to sink down to his knees, to press his face against Sirius’ groin and swallow his dick down until he had Sirius’ long, bony fingers buried his hair and Sirius’ spunk on his tongue. Remus wanted to lick the precome he felt wasteful smearing around, wanted to bend over the sink and have Sirius fuck him until everything was okay — but that wasn’t the answer. It had never been. 

“Fuck, Moony, fuck, I’m _gonna—_ ” the cry pulled Remus out of his toe-curling fantasy for a moment, sending an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Still pressing Sirius against the door with his side, he didn’t have a free hand to use to cup his balls, or to tease further down at his arse, so Remus settled for licking a broad stripe up Sirius’ neck. He bit and sucked on the most sensitive spots he knew, and groaned when Sirius’ thigh jerked against his own clothed, neglected cock. 

“Merlin _fuck—”_ Sirius cried again, and his hips snapped forward. He covered Remus’ hand in come, and the floor, and his shirt. _Fuck_.

“Are we done now?” Remus asked, trying immensely hard not to let the shakiness come through on his voice; his own knees weak. 

“We were never done before, Moony,” Sirius cleared his throat and _smirked_ ; somehow still cocky after being ruined at someone else’s toilet. 

“So I wasn’t allowed to move on, then, that’s what you mean.”

“You should’ve fought harder.”

“At the Department of Mysteries—?”

“After,” Sirius interrupted him. 

Giving up on waiting for Remus to clean them, Sirius pulled out his wand — a new one, too, from what Remus could tell — from an inner pocket of his jeans and vanished the mess they’d made. Remus stared.

“Sirius, you were dead. You fell into that blasted veil and I had to hold Harry back because he wanted to follow you—”

“Turns out I wasn’t dead, though, was I?” Sirius spat.

Remus spluttered, crossing his arms against his chest.

“ _How—_? How were we supposed to know?”

“How were you supposed to know I wasn’t a traitor?”

“That’s not—”

“Of course it’s not the same thing,” Sirius scoffed. Remus could see a vein pulse on the side of his neck, distracting him from the sight of the lip-shaped bruises that’d just begun to form there. “You didn’t get any of my cousins up the duff then.”

“I didn’t just _get her up the duff,_ Sirius! I loved her. She loved me. We got married—” Remus shook his head, frustration building.

“In a tavern, I know.”

“We didn’t— it didn’t matter _where._ I loved her, and then she died,” he sighed.

“Like you loved me, and then I died. And then came Tonks. Should I warn Charlie?” Sirius asked, doing up his trousers.

“ _Sirius.”_

“What?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Remus laughed, bitterly. There was no more arguing to be done, nothing that would _take_ anywhere, not when Sirius got like this. 

With one last look around the toilet to make sure they weren’t leaving any evidence of their encounter behind, Remus reached for the doorknob.  Sirius moved away, to his surprise, and followed him out. 

“He may want to take out an insurance policy. Draw up a will, get his matters in order—”

“ _Stop_. Just stop. Fuck _you_ , that’s enough!”

“You’ve already fucked me, Moony. Do you want to go again? Maybe after your birthday lunch, though. Molly made a roast.”

“We’re not doing this again. I can’t, I’ve— I’ve gone through so much shit, Sirius. I’ve got a son to think about, I can’t fall into this pit of utter thestral shit—”

“So what, I’m _utter_ _thestral shit_ now?”

Remus huffed.

“I came back to all of _this;_ I don’t know who the fuck you are anymore, Remus.”

They stopped. Remus waited for the rest, jaw set tight, the remains of his arousal waning faster than any moon, replaced by a sickly _anger_ that left no room for thoughts of fucking. 

“Or better, I do.”

“Of course.”

“You're still the same cold-hearted _coward_ I knew back then.”

“Good to know that’s what you think of me.” 

Remus shouldered past him, nails digging into his own palms. There was no more silencing Charm, and yelling wouldn’t do. Hexing Sirius wouldn’t work either, nor would punch him in his smug pointy face—

“ _Remus_. I didn’t come back for—”

Sirius grabbed him by the back of his shirt before they entered the kitchen. Remus stumbled back and took in a sharp breath, ready to interrupt him.

“Probably should’ve stayed dead, then.”  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big shout out to [jenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandblitz/) and [sarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FivePips) for the support i absolutely needed to get through this chapter! i can’t thank jenn enough for the way her sirius has helped develop my remus. i could not have done it without you, gals 💖🖤💖
> 
> also: as you may have noticed, there's been a bit of a tag revamp and also some minor editing on previous chapters. there are also big plans for the epilogue (chapter 13), including art!
> 
> i'm on [tumblr](https://letsdothepanic.tumblr.com/) if anyone fancies a chat! let me know what you think of sirius' sass and remus' way of dealing with it over there or here on the comments! 💖


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